When Life Impedes Writing

I don't mean this in the sense of, "Oh, I'm far too busy. I could never write a book." No, I mean this in the sense of, well, I'll just get on with it.

As I have mentioned before, it's quite possible I have very mild/high functioning Asperger Syndrome. If I don't, it means I have somehow entirely analogously developed traits identical to Asperger Syndrome. This can make writing very, very hard for me, as I don't really know how normal people behave. My image of "normal" people is probably horribly skewed, not only because of my own biases I inject, but also because the aforementioned issues make it hard. I mean, if you were to observe me...Think Seventh Doctor meets Second Doctor meets Fourth Doctor meets Sherlock Holmes. So in some ways I guess it's a good thing I do write fiction though, because I am very good at characters. People who are real enough, but no matter what they could never pass for being real; there's always just that thin sheet of ice there.

But! This creates much, much bigger issues. As I have mentioned before I have created a character who is intended to be a romantic interest, insofar as the hero is interested in her romantically. Still debating whether that relationship will develop. As I was writing the scenes with her, and even moreso now re-reading them, I have been banging my head in agony. Surprise surprise, I cannot write romance. Again, this is partially because I am kind of Sherlock Holmes and three Doctors snowballed into one entity, but more than that.

I cannot flirt.

At. All.

I am even worse at picking up on women flirting with me.

In January when I went to go get my iTouch, I brought along a friend because he wanted to get a new iPod as well. I went about my business thinking the girl behind the counter was just being personable. On the way out my friend pointed out she was flirting with me, and being that I was single at the time, asked why hadn't done anything about it. Outwardly, I just sort of shrugged. Inwardly, I was running through the whole thing trying to work out when she started flirting with me and how, exactly. It boggled me well through the weekend, and on Monday I had to basically run through the whole scenario with female friends to get their opinion. All four women agreed she had been flirting with me. And that's just the most recent example of it. Worse yet, I still can't see how what she was doing was flirting.

And oh dear lord do not get me started on my pathetic attempts at flirting. That's just...no...let's just put one of those "Accident Black Zone" signs up over it, shall we?

Now, this is important because, Rocelyn is supposed to be flirting with Daniel. Instead, what she is doing is smiling a lot more than is natural. She has essentially turned into some kind of Toothy Tooth Monster from Toothville, Toothica, Toothworld. She gives a polite "hello" sort of smile when she walks in. Fine. But then she smiles at Daniel every other time they encounter each other. Whenever she spies him catching a fleeting glance at her, smile. Going into the elevator to go home? Smile. Walking past his desk? Smile. And the dialogue. Oh, dear heavens, the dialogue. The flirtatious dialogue makes my miserable attempts sound like Giacomo Girolamo Casanove de Seingalt.

So what we've got now are characters who are obviously characters, and the worst attempts at flirting in human history. Worse than those cheese-tastic chat-up lines like "You're so hot, your ass is on fire" or the just plain awful, horrendous, who ever thought this would work, "Come here often?"

Yes. I am so much worse than that. And my characters are so much worse than me. I feel like I should forcibly lock them all in chastity belts to ensure they can never, ever produce offspring with such bad skills, but then I remember they're so horrible they won't need chastity belts to keep from having sex.

Alright, well, to be fair, I'm not always worse than that. Usually I am sometimes so much worse than that. But sometimes I such a big ball of cheese I make the 80s look like Pluto. For example, in a pathetic attempt to "woo" my third girlfriend, and dear Lord I to this day have no idea how this worked, well...

Yeah. Sang every bit of Sinatra's parts of that song. And that's me at my best. God forbid me at my regular or my worst ever see the light of day again.

I think I might just completely wipe Rocelyn from existence. Save everyone the pain of this...stuff, if you can even call it that. So, so painful.