As much as I love to write, writing takes so much out of me. I’ve returned back to the last eight chapters of TRC, as I figured out an alternative plotline for it, only to find myself emotionally exhausted. Why? Like other writers I’m sure, when I write, I need to feel what my characters are feeling. Because I never experienced the public ostracism my heroine endured, I had to mentally put myself through it, imagining the shame she must have felt as best as I could, as if I had suffered it in her stead. Now, after writing about all the misery Amanda went through, I feel so low spirited. And NOW I need to work on a chapter that is relatively light hearted. It’s set in the idyllic country side (Cornwall, to be exact–such a romantic place). But I find myself unable to stimulate my imagination enough to write about this scene. My heart is so heavy that I feel unable to write this comedic episode that’s meant to make readers feel giddy. Instead, in the state I’m in right now, I’ll either bore them or depress them to tears. Maybe, when I visit the beach this summer, it’ll help me out a bit. Or maybe I should just skip this chapter for now and move onto the next… This is very unprofessional, but: GAHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHH ARGGGGGGGGGG.