Dear Carolyn,

I know, I know... writing again?

Well I have a bit of a conundrum. Or a problem. Or maybe I'm just all fucked up and it's time to move on the old age home and scheduled bowel movements. ("Ms. Green, it's time for your 2 pm BM.")

Anyway, I'm having an issue with writing. I've been working on our secret project with those lovely Aussie ladies as you well know and I've also been working on my sex scene with Satan. The joy of writing "Satan has a beautiful cock" truly made my sunday night. But writing, really writing... well, I haven't been.

I mentoned that I bought that cooking chick-lit book and I started reading it this morning. It's okay. Maybe it's more than okay. What I know is that I've been reading it in a way that makes me feel like I'm ravenous for words. A starving woman needing an IV of adverbs and descriptive phrases to stay alive.

I'm devouring this book. I'm almost licking the Kindle to make sure no word goes untasted. Carolyn, this is getting a little intense. And then after I ate a giant Kit-Kat bar and calmed down, I realized that I was craving love.

Oh heavens, not a gooey, wild-eyed, fuck me in the afternoon and all day Sunday kind of love but a I love these characters and never want to let them go kind of love. The way I used to feel about some of my fan-fic characters from way long ago when we were cutting our teeth on Father Knows Best fan-fic.

I'm a nutcase to be sure but I want to write some characters that make me melt a little inside. I want to feel a little swoony. I want ambiance and passion and ultimately, a sense of knowing these people and being invested in what happens next. I want kitchens redolent with cooking, brothers and sisters who fight and tease and would kill for each other, love that doesn't come from Satan's snack bar.

Oh Carolyn, I really want to write.

Lori