Finishing Projects is Hell

^^ TRUTH ^^

I knew the end was upon us from the day I determined my posting schedule for Fifty Shades of Grace. Literally, I knew the end-date from sometime last May.

But as we approached December, I was experiencing the most godawful dread, already feeling like 'well, now what?'

Never mind that I'd already started writing my next story by that point--I started it in September, actually.

There had been the loveliest comfort that came with the routine of updating my blog each week with previously prepared content, the anticipation of what reactions it might get. (I was both dreading and eager to see the reactions to chapters 14. Remember that? The twelve paragraph chapter?)

Yeah, those were fun times.

Anyway, I believe I've posted this before but there's this odd sense of relief, accomplishment, and sheer, absolute emptiness that comes from finishing a project. It's like staring down into an abyss, looking for something ... but you don't even know what you're looking for. And if it's there? You're not even sure you'd recognize it if you found it.

It's a lonely feeling; I've yet to find all that many others who have told me they experience it.

So here I am, the first blog post after I finished sharing that story. I aim to continue updating each Sunday with something.

I've had a couple lovely people ask if there will be more to Alastor's and Grace's story. The short answer is yes.

The longer answer:

The next fic is taking me longer than the first but it's ... more. It's just more. More of everything. And 'more' takes time and effort.

It's currently 63,500 words long and I've got about 10 chapters left to write. My guess is this will end up somewhere around 90k. For comparison, the completed Fifty Shades of Grace was 65,000 words long. So ... yeah. It's a lot.

It's more.

It's Fifty Shades of Grace on steroids. There's a chapter tentatively titled, "Um … OMG?! WTAF!"

So if you enjoyed that dysfunctional train wreck of a "situationship," buckle up.

I currently do not have an anticipated release date. The goal is this year, though, ideally before next season of Hazbin Hotel drops.

The Fifty Shades of Grace giveaway is still open for sign-ups over here!

Want a sneak peek at the next story? Remember, this is a draft, subject to errors and change.

Come right this way.

“I was bored, Little Fawn, and you make for such a delightful playmate.”

She knew the words and yet none of them made sense to her. “That was a game?”

He chuckled. “You sound surprised.”

“I thought—never mind, it doesn’t matter what I thought. Can I have a kiss, at least, for all my troubles?”

Alastor dragged the tip of a claw up along the center of Grace’s neck, tilting her face toward him more and moving in, his lips just a hairbreadth from hers. With an absolutely feral grin, he replied, “No.”

“Excuse me?” Grace did a double-take, tears springing to her eyes. “No?!”

He shook his head, pulling away. “No.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry, don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much that just gutted you. But on her next blink, the tears fell, regardless.

“Heh. Lovely.” Alastor gently wiped the tears from her cheeks, licking them from his fingertips. “You are delicious in every possible way, my dear.”

That’s right: sadistic bastard.

Why do I love him so much?

There would never be a sane answer to that, and she knew it.

“If … if no kiss, then would you at least get me to my room in a way that I don’t have to walk through the hotel looking like this?”

His eyes twinkled with mischief. “I don’t wish to sound like a broken record, but: No.”

That response pushed Grace over the edge. She shoved him away and stood swiftly, teetering for a few moments as everything went white briefly. Once sight returned to her, she stormed out of Alastor’s room without another word or so much as a glance back at him.

She slammed the door behind herself, but stood just outside, trying to quell her fury.

Once more, Grace found herself in the middle of the Hazbin Hotel in nothing more than a nightgown. A barely-there nightgown with no bra and even less-there undies.

I’ve had some awful walks of shame but I think this one beats all. Praying she wouldn’t encounter anyone else in the space between their rooms, Grace tip-toed down the hall.

Until next week, my deer friends!