Whenever I try to write something that isn't epic fantasy, my writing always sounds like it's just taking itself too seriously.
"The sense of purpose burgeons within her chest, swelling beyond the size of the viscera that her ribs contain. She exhales a breath she had been holding without intent, letting the gout of a sigh coil into the thought-laden ethers above. The purpose remains. Her fingers drum staccato against her palms, like the beating wings of a haggard hawk who awakes in fetters for the first time. I'm going to. I'm going to do it.
Reaching forth with trembling digits, she picks up the phone and clasps her spidering hand over the mouthpiece to whisper, 'I'm an adult,' to the unhearing receptionist on the other side of the line."Â