Why my panties unexpectedly dropped

Dear Diary,

I hopped out of bed this morning at the usual time, went through my regular daily routine, trekked to Anne’s, set up my laptop and peripherals, turned the lights down, slipped on my headphones…

And then took them off and looked back at Anne with a blank expression and announced that, for some reason, I just wasn’t feeling it today.

And I wasn’t.

There was not an ounce of creativity in me, and I have no idea why. It wasn’t like I was in some sort of existential author mindset or anything, I just had nothing in me creatively to work with. It was bizarre.

So, I got in bed with Anne and watched some TV with her, and we both fell asleep. I then proceeded to have nightmare after nightmare – something I usually don’t have.

It’s just been an odd day all around. Not bad. Just bizarre.

I did go back to the computer later on in the day and manage to get a few author tasks done (I’ll finish the rest this weekend), including completing the outline for Voyeur: Season 1 Episode 5, going back and forth with Amazon over the paperback version of When Daddy Was Away (I managed to knock out one of their three complaints), and finding out that the audiobook cover change for When Daddy Was Away was finally changed over to the new version.

Now about my panties.

They dropped unexpectedly last night (True story. I almost tripped.) when I became aware of a certain review left for one of my novels, Taken, which has yet to go live on Amazon but should soon. Here it is in its entirety (if you want to read it via his post, you can find it here: https://buff.ly/2vhYuSU)

This is the most blisteringly intense story ever… for the first time in my life I needed to take a break in the middle of a book.

If you superficially think that this is about  a kidnap and gang rape – you are so wrong. The mind behind this story obviously has an extremely deep knowledge about human psyche and primal instincts and how they rule from the deep, the logical conscious mind we use everyday.

Just like author’s other stories this one smashes the norms of civilization into pieces and tears down the borders of imagination; questions everything you believe and trust – from religious faith to the “strong and independent woman” concept – which is pretty fashionable lately. Puts the reader face to face with the cold harsh reality of the domination of pure raw physical strength and how an average person could be helpless against it.

The moment when main female protagonist let her self completely go will make you question yourself about almost any rule of moral you have – and everything you believe about your physical and mental faculties.

This tale dragged me into it viciously and completely filled my mind with it atmosphere. To do such thing it usually takes a huge production team from writer, vfx artists, actors to directors and haunting musical scores. This author, Alexa Nichols achieved the same affect on me just by herself using words.

Mindblowing…

See, reviews like this just let me know that I’m doing the right thing by being a writer. I mean, I know I’m not the best there is, and I know I have a weird writing style compared to more traditional authors out there (emotional and concise – admittedly this is by design, however, not mental defect), but that I’m getting reviews like these – well thought out, articulated, and passionate – just make me all fuzzy inside.

And so many of you leave them! 😳

My eyes are legit watering right now.

I’m getting all emotional.

I need to stop writing this entry.

Especially since Anne is presently leaning her entire body over me watching me write this, thinking she can pressure me into quitting just because she rented Justice League from Redbox and then got junk food to go with it.

I can still write with her on me. And I don’t need junk food.

Iron will.

(Notices she got me a bag of mini Twix. And extra buttered popcorn.)

…

Enjoy your weekend, loves! 💖

#Alexa

“I blame my mother for my poor sex life. All she told me was ‘the man goes on top and the woman underneath.’ For three years my husband and I slept in bunk beds.”

– Joan Rivers