Serial Mom

Watching it now... *big happy smile* There's something beautiful about a serial killer mom. Can the story about my life be Terrorist Mom? KABOOM!

I blew up another warehouse last night. I didn't intend to, it just sort of happened. But there my characters were, and my heroine had the nerve to start going off on some stupid backstory reminiscent tirade about how she became a meth addict. Like my readers care. *rolling eyes* So, I stopped her in her tracks by blowing up the warehouse she was walking past. That'll serve her for not advancing my plot. You want to wander down memory lane? I'll blow it up.

Oh, the joy of a creative imagination...

Last night was a trying evening. That Man called me at five to say he was on his way home. Fifteen minutes later, he called back to say he got a call to work late. Twenty four hours later, he came home. I am not kidding. We won't discuss the stress of being locked in the house with the dog and children. The real reason I'll never knock off That Man-Those Kids.

So here I am, watching a movie about a serial killer mom (YES!) and trying to figure out what to do with this book. Do you think I could get away with blowing up another warehouse? Yeah, I know, how does it advance the plot or the romance? It doesn't. I know where it's SUPPOSED to be going, but I can't seem to get the steps in between right. The thing is, this book is not supposed to be a romantic suspense. It's a heartwarming story of redemption. But these stupid drug dealers want to make it a suspense. I don't want to solve some mystery surrounding this drug ring. Is that so hard to understand? The other two stories related to these characters are not suspense.

Maybe I'll watch The Princess Bride instead. There's something romantic about a man who says nothing except, "As you wish."