🩶✨ WRITER IN CRISIS MODE ✨🩶

So here’s the thing. I’m currently locked in the seventh circle of writer’s hell—no, not the “I hate everything I’ve ever written” pit, not even the “my characters are making out when they’re supposed to be fighting” zone. No, no. We’ve reached that place: The Chapters That Won’t Behave™️.

Chapters 27 and 28 of Against the Boards were supposed to be light, flirty, slightly spicy, possibly sparkly?? Just a nice evening that gently punches the readers in the feels and leaves them screaming in the group chat. But instead?

They. Will. Not. Work.

I’ve rewritten the same two scenes more times than I’ve reheated my coffee this week—and that’s saying a lot because I’ve hit “warm beverage necromancy” levels at this point. And the WORST part? These chapters are not even plot bombs. They’re just…vibe-heavy. One night. ONE freaking night that apparently contains a mysterious emotional landmine I didn’t see coming.

Oh, and they’re scheduled to go live NEXT WEEK. You know, for the unsuspecting readers who think I’m calm and organized. 😇 Surprise! I’m neither. I’m spiraling in a cloud of self-doubt, jealousy, unresolved sexual tension, and Wyatt being a cocky little bastard when he’s not even the POV.

Also, Fiona? She’s so furiously not okay and pretending to be okay and failing so badly at being okay that I’m about to cry on her behalf. But does she confess anything? NO. Of course not. That would be too easy. Instead, she just… seethes with that quiet rage you bottle up until you accidentally break a wine glass and start sobbing over a bag of frozen peas.

Anyway. If you hear a distant scream and the sound of an author softly thudding her forehead against a keyboard while whispering “it’s fine, everything’s fine,” that’s me. Living. Laughing. Loveing. Slowly losing grip on reality.

Wish me luck—or chocolate. Or someone to write this damn scene for me.