take a chill pill / 3 questions/ sequin update

I am finding my own attitude very ugly these last couple of days. I have such a greedy skull, I'm never satisfied, and then I sulk. Of course, it's in good portion due to hormones, but I can't discount that I'm not feeling very pretty on the inside lately as a completely separate issue.

any 3 questions: Anyone want to ask me anything? Or, rather, three anythings? I'm in a tell-all mood... And I think you're supposed to ask people to do the same, but I won't hold you to it.

( sequin update )

ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies / fear of writing / mystery tulip

I'm baring my soul, people. This is a hint for more, of course.

I saw a post on my list today where a person was afraid they weren't going to be able to do justice to their story idea, which seems to be a common fear. I'd like to write something with a really elaborate plot, but my mind doesn't even go there, so I haven't yet been in the position of thinking I couldn't write up to the standard of an idea. Most of the time, I feel like my story ideas are pretty right-sized to my skills and interests (conversation? porn?), though I can understand that fear of inadequacy as a general creative terror. My big issue is thinking that my stories are technically more or less fine, if light on plot, but from a POV or general tack that is not interesting to anyone else. I'm poking at something now wishing it hadn't gone the direction it went (not like I had any say in the matter, of course) because it's...far afield. Or seems that way to me. Maybe the betas will think it is fine. But that's going to be one of the questions I'm going to ask, i.e., "Do you even care what happens next?" It's disheartening to get to the end of something and think, "No one is going to be interested in this." After all, there are dozens of books, both popular and "real literature," that have no appeal to me whatsoever, so it's entirely likely that a person could write a great fic that would find no readers. Of course, I thought that about Primary, and that was probably my most popular story. This one won't be another Primary, though.

We have a single red tulip growing at the back of our yard. It's very tall and graceful, what would be sold as a "French" tulip in a florist's shop. We've never seen this in prior years, so it's a happy accident, a sort of surprise royal visitor nodding in the breeze, apparently approving of the weeds and clutter at its cool green feet. While checking out the tulip, I visited the bleeding hearts, which were being skillfully emptied by a big bee. By summer time, the bees will be nearly as big as thumbs, drone like planes, and pull the flower heads down almost to the dirt when they land to collect nectar. I love the giant bees.