If I were writing this week (which I’m not, due to a school overload), I would once again be in a battle with a terrible tendency to use cliches. I don’t mean the acceptable, they’re-cliches-for-a-reason ones. I mean the Days of Our Lives, The Notebook ones. Why? I’m not sure. I’m not sure why part of me leans towards the sappy and irritating. Even more confusing is that the second I read or see something of the like, I feel like ripping all my teeth out and running in front of a train. Preferably the Métro, because if you’re going to die by train, you might as well do it in Paris.
My best bet, really, is to keep going with the adventure and skip Christian romance. But I can’t. Like I’ve said about a hundred times, Christian romance is my genre. My genre. It just flows, like the ink’s doing all the writing, not me. Or rather, since paper is expensive, the computer keys and not me. But (no offense to Kingsbury fans, or to Mrs. Kingsbury herself, who does in fact write amazingly and doesn’t need an 18 year-old girl to tell her that anyway) how do I stay away from Kingsbury and stick with Rivers? Complicated. I think the worst thing anyone can tell me is that my writing is melodramatic. My dad did this once as a compliment, and I started crying.
As to what to do about cliches…*sigh* I don’t know. Some cliches you can reinvent until they’re fresh, but others are just…cliche. Bad cliche.
Now I’m rambling. I apologize. I blame this on the 32 degree Celsius heat and no air conditioning, as well as me being nervous about my horseback riding lesson.