So why post about football on a paranormal romance blog? The answer is simple--well, it is for me. I use my football games as therapy and a reason to write. I get a few hours (hopefully) to sit and write. I'm a late night writer. Once everyone is in bed and the house is quiet, that's when I put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. But on Sunday, I give myself the luxury of writing. The family leaves me alone and allows me to be creative.
Now I bet you're wondering. How does this apply to cookies and crumbling...and writing? As I said, I just finished watching my beloved Bengals play. It's Monday night and I have to admit, the Bengals do NOT deal well with prime time play. They don't handle that kind of stress well. The first half started off fine, but I had this feeling and I was right. The curse of prime time came back to haunt us.
What does this have to do with me? I'm not on the team. I'm a fan. I'm pretty sure I bleed black and orange. What this has to do with writing is that it's really hard to write romance and hard to write happy thoughts when the team you love... isn't performing.
I'm trying to finish my latest Sanctuary story and it's hard as heck to focus when I'm spending more time hollering at the television--hey, I get into my games--than I am at putting those fingers to the keyboard. I know where the story has to go. That's the beauty of the notes I took the night before. I'm prepared, but I can't get my head into the story.
There are a few pluses to all of this. Yes, my team lost. Yes, I would've liked a better ending than the quarterback DROPPING the football. But...there is a silver lining. We made it to the playoffs. We're in. We didn't get a bye week, but then again, we didn't exactly earn it. Have I given up on my team? Nope. There's always next week--well, there is until the season is over and then there's always next season.
I have to add in here that the Bengals have an interesting history. For the lion's share of my fandom, they haven't been the best team. That's taught me something very important and I apply it to my writing--the game, team, story might not be working out right now, but that's no reason to give up.
The same applies to tonight. I wanted to scream at the players and I admit, I turned the channel as soon as the game ended. But I'm not giving up on my team and I didn't give up on my story. Sanctuary, Book 5 has been written. Shortly, it'll be turned in.
So that's how the cookie crumbles. You win some and you lose some, but never give up. I'm not. I'm still a card carrying member of Who Dey nation and I love my Bengals. I love my lion shifters, too. Thank goodness I can have a rest until next week--at least with football. I'm going to need it. As for writing? I've got another work in progress calling my name. I'll get up in the morning and start on that story. Never surrender.
Ben knows who he wants in his life and bed—Joe. The lion wants to bond with the human he desires. The difference in their species doesn’t bother him a bit. Will the shifter be able to convince Joe they have a future or will fear dominate and destroy the love before it can blossom?
Warning: Once you’re in the sight of this shifter, you may be the “mane” attraction. This lion doesn’t give up until he has his prey.
Kind of. Sure, he had nothing holding him down, but when he looked at John and Markas together, jealousy hit. He wanted that kind of devotion. Would he get it with Ben?
Ben was certainly different. He was innocent and deserved someone worthy of him. Joe wasn’t worthy of too much of anything. He’d had a little too much fun and broken a few too many hearts along the way. Ben needed true devotion and a good match.
Joe snorted. He was great as a reporter and nosy as hell, but he sucked at relationships. Ben deserved a partner, not a player.
Still, he liked Ben. He worried about the shifter and wanted him to be happy. Could Joe make Ben happy? Doubtful.
Joe opened his eyes and washed the cum from his body. He’d be a friend and help Ben find a suitable partner. No romantic entanglements—just friendship—even if it damn near killed him not to be the man in Ben’s arms and bed.