Top 10 Ways Writers Waste Time and the Fixes

Here is my list of top 10 ways writes waste time and the fixes for it. This is what I have seen other writers and myself waste our time. Let's try to avoid then.

1. The Unlimited Excuses

I am too tried to write.

I don't have the time to write.

I need to finish cleaning before I write.

My kids need my help before I write.

And etc.

Does any of these or the unlimited amount of excuses sound familiar? You do not have time to screw around. You need to write. You can do it. If you don't agree with me, Dolly Parton has sung the song, "You can do it." Check it out.

THE FIX: Make the time. Schedule a certain time every week or every day. Get your writing time in. Make sure everyone knows this is your writing time. I write every November. If my family leaves me alone, I will cook something for Thanksgiving. If they don't, they not getting their deviled eggs, aka rotten eggs (my family calls it this after my son made the mistake). Guess what? Every year they get rotten eggs. Fight for your time to write. I get all of a sudden my kid has something and it is during my writing time. Well I will do that, but guess what is happening the next day or so? I will be writing during that time. I moved that time to a new date.

2. The Research Rabbit Hole

You search for some answer and then you get stuck in a massive time suck. Before you realize it you've spent too much time on finding an answer. And you might not have even gotten the answer you needed.

THE FIX: Research just what you need. Get the answer and get back to writing or editing. I've been stuck before and realized my friend knew the answer. I messaged them. They answered me and I got an answer instead of wasting my time. Use your friends. I hate asking people for anything, but good people, your friends, want to help. Other authors want to help. We have an amazing community.

3. The Social Media Time Suck

Let's be honest. We all do this. You're looking at one of the many interesting videos and then flip to the next before you realize it 30 minutes or more has gone by.

THE FIX: Get your goals done and then enjoy your social media time. I reward myself. Or I yell at myself and tell myself to get it done.

4. Proofreading or Editing Your Unfinished Manuscript

Before you start writing for the day, you read over your manuscript and edit it before you can begin writing. Can you see how much time you waste if you do this EVERY TIME?

THE FIX: Limit how much you edit. I do the previous chapter at the most and that is it. You do you. Look over a scene. Look over a chapter. Look over a few paragraphs or etc. Don't edit the whole book. You'll be doing an edit once you finish your book. Trust yourself. Your future self will edit your book just fine.

5. The New Story Idea

You chase after a new story idea, and you write it. The story you have left for the new one is over half way done. You have another new story idea and you repeat. Do you see the problem here? Before you know it, you'll have over 5 stories started and never finished.

THE FIX: Limit it. I write the scene or chapter and that is it. I get it out of my head and get my fix. You do you. But unless you convince yourself to finish a story, you won't. I will admit I have 8 stories ready to be written, wanting to be written. I have written on them, but I am not allowed to write any of them until I get another book done.

6. The Feedback Dilemma

Before your work is finished, you hand it out. You change your work based on that feedback. You let people read it again and then you change and edit again. Like #4 you keep on editing, but you change YOUR work based on someone else's opinion.

THE FIX: Don't send it out. Don't get so much feedback. This is YOUR story. You write it. You can ask for opinions if you have questions. I've done that. I liked my character but wanted to know what other people thought. They let me know he wasn't kind like I wanted him to be, and I changed one small thing. He's kinder now. That was a few chapters. Not the whole book. I have a rule of 10. If 10 people or more are saying the same thing, I should change that. I also have a few trusted authors I change for too. It has to be serious before they ever mention anything to me.

7. The Change Over

You change your book over and over based on an editor, a publisher, or etc. opinion. This is a bit different then #6 because it's people in the industry who you should trust. People you should take their opinions over. Should you though?

THE FIX: You need to ask yourself, do you regret the change? If you do, don't do it. I rather be happy and be this unknown author then hate the story I wrote. You have to do you though.

8. Researching How to Write

Why are you researching how to write? You write by doing it. All the research will not get you to write.

THE FIX: Writing can be simplified. You need to write an interest beginning, keep people engaged, you need an almost ending, and then an ending. You have those four things and you are good. I'm not into the story arc with the bell curve. I want to keep people flipping the pages to read what happens next. I will take or watch something to improve. That is different. Improving is always a good thing. And I limit that too.

9. The Green Envy

Your writing friend or someone (you do or don't know) on twitter, tik tok, or any of those social media platforms sold a lot of books, got a lot of page reads, got an agent, or etc. You feel like you should never write again and you will never make it.

THE FIX: Be happy for them. Don't compare yourself. Your writing journey will be different. You write different then them. Unless you are #CopyPasteCris. Don't be that person. I believe everyone will get there. Readers read a lot of different books. There is a spot for everyone.

10. Creating a Book Cover

Why are you making a book cover and book isn't done? Your story can changed. Why have something that you may not use? Why waste time?

THE FIX: Don't do it.

I want to see so I do it. I am hoping to stop.

Later,

K.A.

My Latest Obsession

My latest obsession is the American TV show Ghosts (2021). Have you seen it?

Samantha and Jay throw caution to the wind when they convert their recently inherited country estate into a bed-and-breakfast. Call it mislaid plans. Not only is the place falling apart, but it’s also inhabited by spirits of previous residents – whom only Samantha can see and hear. Ghosts spins the funny, heartfelt story about a newfound dream that reveals connection and self-discovery aren't just for the living.

It is hilarious and a lot of hijinks. It does take 3 episodes to get into the story. Spoilers coming up now. The first episodes sets the story up and then Sam has an accident. Second episode she freaks out. Wouldn't you if you could all of a sudden see ghosts? Third episode she accepts seeing ghosts and the series gets better from there.

One of the reasons why I am obsessed with this show is because it is a lot of fun and the episodes are short. They are slotted for 30 minutes time slot Thursdays 8:30/7:30c currently airing on CBS. I gave up cable years ago so I watch it on the Paramount+ app.

The Ghosts cast has a ghost for everyone. One of my favorite characters is Sam. She is not a ghost, but the main character. She is played by Rose McIver. Have you seen Rose in anything before? She was in the TV show iZombie, the movie series A Christmas Prince, and so much more. She is definitely one of my favorite actors. In Ghosts, her husband is Jay, played by Utkarsh Ambudkar. He does a great job of going along with Sam and takes convincing but does support her in the end. I'm not as familiar with his previous works, but I'll need to check it out.

The Ghosts are (in order of deaths (I think)):

• Thor/Thorfinn - a Viking and the oldest ghost in the house. He doesn't understand everything in our world which would happen to anyone who has been dead and around for over 1,000 years. He calls cars landships. We should call them that. Portrayed by Devan Chandler.

• Sass/Sasappis - a cynical Native American who is the voice of reason and also a story teller. The writer in me is like YES! Portrayed by Román Zaragoza.

• Hetty Woodstone - uptight and proper lady from a long time ago. She originally owned the house and is the great-great-great-great-grandmother of Sam's. Portrayed by Rebecca Wisocky.

• Captain Isaac Higgintoot - a closeted gay American Revolution officer who died of dysentery. Portrayed by Brandon Scott Jones. He is one of my favorite ghosts. He likes to gasp at shocking moments. It does happen a lot between the living and the dead. We should bring back gasping.

• Unknown amount of Cholera victims - they live in the basement. So far we have learned about 6 of them. Nancy is awesome. She's outspoken and doesn't take flack from anyone. Portrayed by Betsy Sodaro who has been on several comedy programs like Another Period, Clipped, Nailed it, and etc.

• Alberta Haynes - a flamboyant Prohibition-era jazz singer who was murdered. This does bring a bit of mystery to the series. Portrayed by Danielle Pinnock.

• Flower aka Susan Montero - a hippie who died in 1960s after being so high she hugged a bear. She is a little flighty. It works well for the show. Portrayed by Shelia Carrasco.

• Pete Martino - a guy who died by an arrow to the neck in 1985. Portrayed by Richie Moriarty.

• Trevor Lefkowiz - most recently deceased ghost and was a wealthy, hard partying business man (I want to say kid since he is barely out of college) and Wall Street investor. He was Jewish and died in 2000 from a heart attack because of drug overdose. He also has no pants. There is a story behind it and you'll have to watch to find out. It is a good one. Trust me. Portrayed by Asher Grodman.

There are hgosts that live nearby or in a shed. So I won't mention them. These are the main ghosts that live in the house.

This is the American version of Ghosts. There is a British version, Ghosts (2019). It's just as good, but only 6 episodes per season and a special except for the first season. The main characters are awesome also. The ghosts are the original so the American version are similar. When adapted, Ghosts (2021) had to change a few things like names and characters since American and British have a different history. The premise is the same. I have not seen the 4th season of the British Ghosts (2019) and I want to. It is on my list to watch. I watched the first 3 seasons on HBO Max (it does have the specials). I can't buy 4th season either yet. It just ended in December 2022.

I am hoping bother series gets many many seasons.

Here is the British verison:

From BBC One:

A cash-strapped young couple inherit a rickety country mansion, only to find it teeming with needy ghosts. Grown-up comedy from the Horrible Histories team.

Later,

K.A.

The Holiday Killing Spree Book 3: Christmas Day Massacre Chapter 1

To celebrate my latest release. I'm sharing the first chapter.

Ho, ho, ho! Christmas is coming and so is the deadline for Jolene Argall and her boyfriend, Bob Ghul. While all the good girls and boys get presents, Jolene and Bob face multiple first-degree murder charges and a domestic terrorism charge. The story behind the massacre comes out, but is it the whole truth or a fabricated lie? Will Jolene and Bob get what they deserve or the freedom to open presents on Christmas Day? ***Warning this book contains graphic content.***

Chapter One

Blood oozed from Shelly Nicholson’s neck. It ran down her body, soaking her big blue chair.

I’d taken her notebook from our session and slashed her with the hard cardboard edge. Her heart did most of the work, pumping her blood out. All I had to do was sit back and watch.

She took five minutes to bleed out. I should’ve cut her deeper.

Now I had less than thirty to escape. Her office was on the second floor and bars were on the only window. My guards stood by the sole entrance. My lawyer had planned for me and her to talk, like I needed any help. I was perfectly fine. Didn’t normal people massacre others?

“Ms. Argall?” Shelly snapped me out of my daydream.

I hadn’t been paying any attention to her since we started our session. Instead, I’d been imagining all the different ways I could kill her. Her pen, her notebook, her books, her awards on the shelf, her glasses, her coffee table, and even her hair tie could be weapons.

“Ms. Argall?” Shelly said again, her tone sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

If I didn’t say something soon, she’d give up or worse, she’d tell my parents. After rolling my eyes, I answered, “What?”

“I asked you a question.”

“So what?” I shrugged my shoulders. She’d been trying to convince me since we met that my relationship with Bob Ghul wasn’t normal. I didn’t care what she thought. What he and I had words couldn’t describe. We belonged together, together forever.

Shelly took a deep breath and let it out. She tapped her pen against the notebook she always carried. When I asked about what she wrote, she always said, ‘just minor notes to remind myself of our session.’ She didn’t realize I could read what she wrote by following the movement of her ballpoint. She’d written two words multiple times.

Stockholm Syndrome?

Minor notes, my ass, I thought.

My lawyer paid her to figure out if I was crazy or not. If I suffered from being held hostage by my man, which I didn’t. She added the question mark every time she wrote the condition because she wasn’t sure.

She’s such a dumbass.

I was sane. I wanted to do nothing more than take that pen and shove it into her, but not her neck because that’d cause way too much spray back. Her side maybe and afterward, I’d watch her slowly bleed out for all the mean things she said about my Bob.

“Jolene!” Shelly pressed. She liked me to call her by her first name too, not Ms. Nicholson, shrink, or bitch. She said it made our meetings more personal.

“What?” I grunted. The image of her blood pooling on her gray carpet flipped into my mind. Maybe I should get her to stand first and then take her down, less commotion. One quick jab and my hand over her mouth should do it. The armed guards, who waited in the hall, wouldn’t hear it.

“Jolene, what you’ve been through isn’t your fault. What he did—“

“Excuse you, don’t mention my Bob again. He did nothing wrong.”

“A lot of prisoners empathize with their capturer, but—“ Shelly said before I cut her off again.

“Here’s the thing, I wasn’t a prisoner. What Bob and I did, we did together.” I pulled my sleeve down on my right arm after the bandaged showed. Bob would be mad at me if he found out what I attempted. Everyone told me too many lies about him. I couldn’t take their deceit anymore and the stress of everything. I glanced out the window as my throat thickened. My bad angle on the couch and the bars blocked most of my view.

“Please let me finish.” Shelly tucked a strand of her curly red hair behind her ear that had gotten loose from her Santa hat. How lame could she be? Why did she bother to tame her wild mane? She’d look way better letting it loose with some product she could actually be pretty. “You have positive feelings for Bob. You didn’t have a previous relationship with him until the Friday before Labor Day this year, right?”

“I met him years ago. He’s Kaylee’s twin. Well, he was her twin. Would he still be if she was dead? I think so. Death doesn’t change who you are.” Kaylee had killed herself. I took a deep breath to calm myself. Bob wouldn’t hate me; he’d understand why I attempted to harm myself. I felt so alone.

“But that wasn’t a relationship. You talked to him how much? A handful of times?”

“So what?” I folded my arms and leaned back. I kicked myself for not giving Bobby the time of day back then. Everyone called him Bobby then. To me, he was Bob, my sweet, sexy, muscular, and handsome man now.

“You didn’t have an actual relationship with him at this time, though,” Shelly said.

“I was a jerk to him when we were younger, and I regret that now. What’s your point?” I didn’t get where she was going with this.

“Let’s move on. You’re refusing to cooperate with the police and the FBI?”

“I don’t like cops.” No one did unless they needed them, and from what I hear in bigger cities, they didn’t want to call them.

“Everyone in law enforcement is trying to help you, even me.”

“You’re not a cop,” I pointed out. If she was, I wouldn’t be talking to her. Bad enough, she had a PhD in psychology.

“I’m here for you, Jolene. Do you think Bob is dangerous?” Shelly asked as she leaned in closer to me, her voice sweeter than molasses.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Bob is dangerous and I know it. He is not to me.“ I honestly believed whole heartily that he would never lay a finger on me. I was the one who stopped him from doing worse things, his rock. “When he isn’t around me, you can’t stop him.”

“What do you mean?”

Shit! I shouldn’t have said that.

“What do you mean?” Shelly asked again. Her red eyebrows rose to her hairline. Her hair and eyebrow colors matched when they shouldn’t have.

Is her hair fake too or does she dye her eyebrows to match her hair? Either way she was a weirdo. From what I’ve seen in my old classmates, redheads had either light brown brows or red brows that weren’t the same color as their hair.

“Jolene, tell me what you mean, please,” Shelly said.

I pressed my lips together into a tight line. I hadn’t gotten to see Bob since the day I told him I was pregnant, and I absentmindedly touched my belly. The police marched me into the station, followed by him. I assumed the latter since I didn’t get to see him. I didn’t have access to the news or a phone. Except if I made a phone call, the jail monitored it. Any contact for me with anyone was bare minimum, even before the accident of me hurting myself. This could be my chance to see him, or I could make the situation worse.

“Jolene?” Shelly asked, her tone soft.

“Never mind.” I waved my hand in front of me, and afterward I pulled my sleeve back down.

“Okay, we’ll drop this conversation for now. You’d tell me if Bob would hurt anyone, wouldn’t you?”

No, I won’t. I blinked at her instead of answering. I didn’t want him to be in solitary confinement like me. Being alone with my own thoughts all day was driving me a little crazy.

I had scratched myself deep. I never did before. Ever since I hurt myself, I had to show the guards my nails, and if they were too long, I had to bite them down or they would forcefully cut them. Talk about a sick, perverse justice system.

“Of course,” I muttered, a complete lie.

Shelly wrote something that I worked to figure out before she said, “With the time remaining, let’s talk about your friends.”

“They’re dead. Why do we have to talk about them?” I shrugged my shoulders, and I didn’t care if I had no one left. I had Bob.

“How did your friends die?”

“I wasn’t there for most of their deaths.” I rattled off how I thought each died, but I never mentioned who killed them. When I got to Bob’s sister, his twin, I took a deep breath. “Kaylee killed herself.”

Out of everyone’s death, she brought tears to my eyes. I brushed them away. I hated myself for not knowing what was happening at her home. Why wasn’t I a better friend?

“What do all their deaths have in common?” Shelly asked, gently.

“They deserved to die except for Kaylee,” I answered after taking a moment to think. She had done nothing, and her sick stepfather used her. My fists tightened at my side.

“Here, use this.” Shelly handed me a tissue from the coffee table in front of me.

I dabbed at the corner of my eyes. I didn’t realize I’d been crying. Yeah, a few tears here and there, but nothing like this. Whenever I was at the damn shrink’s office, I bawled like a baby. Who wouldn’t with everything going on? I started pretrial on Monday, the day after tomorrow. I’d have to give my plea. My lawyer advised me to plead insanity. If I did, I’d spend years in a psych ward. What would happen to my baby then?

On top of my drama, I had to talk about my feelings with Shelly. She and my lawyer also tried to get me to relive the things that I’d done. I had killed people, big deal.

She glanced at her notes after I blew my nose. “Do you think Corrie deserved to be tortured and gutted?” Shelly asked.

“Yeah! She was the worst of my old friends,” I answered without hesitation.

“Why are you saying old? Your friends are dead, Jolene. Killed by your boyfriend. They are still your friends, even if they’re gone.”

“My dead friends deserved to die, especially Corrie.”

“You can’t believe that. What could a seventeen-year-old teenage girl do to deserve death?”

“She’s the reason everything happened. If that bossy bitch Corrie hadn’t forced the rest of us to ignore Kaylee, Kaylee would still be alive.” I ground my teeth together, and heat flushed through my body.

“You didn’t have to ignore Kaylee,” Shelly pointed out.

“Have you ever dealt with a queen bee, or should I say a queen bitch? If you don’t listen to her, you’re ousted, too.”

“I was in high school once. I know what it’s like.”

“What, a million years ago? Time has changed everything.”

Shelly’s lips twitched before she said wistfully, “No, only ten, but I know what it was like to want to be popular.” Her cheeks turned a little pink.

“I didn’t know ‘what it was like’ because I was, and if you didn’t follow the queen bee, you were out. Corrie liked to make the lives of any girls who crossed her miserable,” I said. Like what she did to Molly Bremer. Molly had turned the corner and bumped into Corrie on accident. The harassment had gotten so bad that Molly switched schools. I didn’t stand up for the other girl even when Corrie should’ve been paying attention to where she walked. I didn’t bother telling my shrink this story, since she wouldn’t understand.

“We’re getting off topic here. With Kaylee, you also had a choice to not ignore her, but you did,” Shelly pointed out.

“High school must’ve changed in the decade since you’ve been there. You either listen to the queen and king or you’re…” My voice trailed off, and I made the motion of getting a throat slit.

“You have to be kidding.” Shelly’s hand flew to her chest.

“Corrie’s dead, isn’t she?” I asked.

Shelly paused and then said, “Yeah, Corrie was murdered.” My shrink had to stop and think. If she mentioned Bob in any negative light, I shut down and refused to speak to her. She was like a kid. I gave her one warning and if she continued, I was done. One session we didn’t speak for fifty-five minutes. She spoke to my lawyer and offered to try again the next day.

“Corrie deserved to die because she wasn’t a good person.”

Again, Shelly looked at her notes before speaking, “If you say so. What about Abby Miller? Did she deserve to be stabbed?”

Amateur.

“Yes, Abby wasn’t great at anything.” I smiled at my own personal joke. Abby loved the five-letter word, great. After Bob gave her justice for her part in his sister’s death, he’d written it on the wall above her bed. I’d been horrified. Now I found it quite amusing.

“I don’t get why you’re smiling. Why are you suddenly happy?” Shelly’s eyes narrowed in on me.

“Everything is just great.” A bubble of laughter burst through my mouth, and I covered it. I fought against the giggling fit that was building up inside of me. If I didn’t stop chuckling, the shrink would sign off on me as being crazy. At least that would make my parents and my lawyer happy.

Think of the baby. Those words sobered me fast, and I explained, “Inside joke. I’m thinking the stress of the trial is just getting to me.”

“Yeah, stress affects people in different ways. Do you feel stressed a lot?” Shelly asked.

“I didn’t until the police kidnapped me. I was fine before then. Everything’s been…been a blur these last few weeks.” After refusing to speak to the cops the night they took me, I was in their custody for a few hours and then whisked away the next morning by the FBI to another, much bigger jail for a week. From there, I spent the rest of the time in a state prison until these last seven days, when I was back in the smaller jail to await my court date. Wasn’t I supposed to have had an arraignment a long time ago?

I’d seen my lawyer and the FBI or other police agency members numerous times, so many that I forgot their names. My parents visited once, but once they spoke bad about Bob, I refused to see them.

“How do you feel when you’re stressed?” Shelly asked.

“Like my life is out of control.” I held up my arm as evidence.

“How do you feel about your attempted suicide?”

“I didn’t try to kill myself. I kept on scratching until I didn’t hurt anymore and then I was tired, very tired. Before the stress and the lies, I never scratched myself.”

“I’m glad you can admit to the suicide attempt, Jolene. That’s progress. Let’s use the time we have left to discuss some ways for you to deal with stress. Since you have limited access to the outside world, we can go over a few things you can do. Taking care of yourself is essential. You need to sleep and eat all of your meals. Are you getting to go outside?” Shelly asked.

I shook my head. The only time I’d seen the sun was the few times I’d come here between transportations so for five minutes.

“Since you can’t go in the yard, I can teach you some exercise routines you can do in your cell.” Shelly stood and asked me to do the same. Once I did, she continued. “Walk in place to warm up. Once you feel your heart pumping, you can do some jumping jacks, squats, sit-ups, and burpees. Do you have access to any weights?”

“No,” I said with a laugh. I had a bed with a thin ass mattress, a sheet, and a rock-hard pillow. The rest of my sleeping arrangement contained another sleeping spot and a toilet. I had to go easy on the TP because of a shortage. At least I didn’t have to share the tiny cell with anyone.

“Do you have a bar?”

“I’m not staying at a fancy hotel.”

“I’ll look up some exercises for you to do for your next visit. Getting into a routine will help you deal with stress.” The timer Shelly set buzzed. “Our session is over. I think we made some actual progress here.”

“Can you show me what a burpee is before I go?” I asked, even though I knew full well how to do one. Monte Jackson and Hank Pratt used to do them as a competition. Hank had won every single time. Now they would never do it again because they were dead, unless they were doing it in hell. I could see them having adjoining cells.

Shelly paled a little, but said, “Of course. You start on the ground and place your hands shoulder-width apart.” She kicked off her stilettos and slid them underneath her chair.

Now those shoes would make a killer weapon. A couple of stabs and she’d be bleeding on the carpet. Her death would be a little faster and more painful after our talk. Or should I let her die slowly?

Decisions. Decisions.

Shelly continued with her instructions, being oblivious to my plan and then said, “That’s how you do a burpee. Do you have questions?” She had winded herself after the one.

“No, I’m good. Thank you.” I swore I heard her sigh with relief.

“Before you go, Jolene. Someone has reached out to me to talk to you. I think it would do you some good to speak to them.”

“Someone? Not my mom or dad, right?” I wouldn’t talk to either of them, not until they apologized. They never would.

“Conrad Jackson. Should I arrange a meeting with the three of us for tomorrow?” Shelly asked.

“Conrad wants to see me?” I asked, surprised. I thought he’d hate me for his brother, Monte, dying. Yeah, they didn’t get along like most siblings. I was an only child, so I didn’t know, but I saw it enough with my dead friends and classmates.

“Yes.”

“Okay then.” What did Conrad want to say to me or yell at me? I deserved whatever he wanted to do. Hopefully, after he did, he’d get some peace. I couldn’t change his brother’s death. Monte had his junk cut off and his innards pulled out. He shouldn’t have slept with Kaylee while he dated Corrie.

Shelly glanced at the clock on the wall and said, “Looks like your lawyer is running late, but your guards can take you to the jail without him.”

“I can see myself out then,” I said.

“No, the rule for you to come here is that your lawyer or an adult, must accompany you in and out of this room. I guess me doing it will be fine.”

I didn’t point out that I was an adult, and if I walked the few feet to the door, it wouldn’t kill me. Not like I could disappear without her noticing.

Someone knocked on the door. Before Shelly could answer it, my lawyer, Roger Dangers, entered the room, saying, “Sorry, traffic. Did everything go well?”

“Yes, Jolene and I made actual progress. I still want to see her tomorrow for a longer appointment, Mr. Dangers,” Shelly said.

“Call me Roger, Shelly,” my lawyer said. He turned to me. “Jolene, please sit and wait for your therapist and I to finish speaking.”

Why did old people do this? They clearly wanted to talk about me. I grumbled and sat on the couch. At least I’d get a few more minutes to look out the window despite the bars.

I asked Shelly once did she normally see such dangerous people. She answered me after taking a moment to think, ‘not normally’ and didn’t say another word about it, so I didn’t ask again. She’d gotten special arrangements for me to come here. I guessed the extra protection was part of the deal.

Snow had fallen the previous night. It lined the roof of the building next door. The sun shined off the white stuff, making everything much brighter. How I missed standing in the rays or shoveling the nasty white stuff away from the cabin door. Bob would be outside cutting down a tree.

“Have you…” my lawyer said before his voice quieted down. He glanced over at me.

“Doctor patient confidentiality,” Shelly said.

I heard that loud and clear.

“Give me something to work with, I’m trying to…” Dangers whispered next, and I missed the rest of his words.

To what? Save my life? He has got to be kidding me. What Bob and I did was out of necessity. People wouldn’t just let us live our lives. We would’ve been fine if we were left alone.

“I need more…” Shelly said.

More what?

“Will ask you…” my lawyer said.

The rest of their words I couldn’t make out because they whispered even lower.

I sighed and stood, having enough before saying, “I need to go. I got plans.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk later,” my lawyer said to my psychologist.

“Tomorrow, I got other clients to see,” Shelly said. “You have a good day, Jolene.”

My lawyer escorted me to the guard who shackled me before we headed outside.

At least tomorrow, I’d get to see Conrad. What was I going to wear? Ah, my normal tan shirt and pants the jail provided.

Maybe I can steal or make some makeup before tomorrow.

https://mybook.to/HKS3