And though there's still plenty of Florida material (such as my ongoing battle with the lizards over who exactly gets to live in my house), I thought today I might ramble about the writing project.
Also known as The WIP That Never Ends.
In July 2014, I published Effigy and set to work on its already-in-progress sequel, Second Nature, with the plan to release that sequel in July 2015.
When July 2015 came around, I hadn't even finished writing the first draft. I signed up for Camp NaNoWriMo, wishing and hoping that that would be the push I needed to get myself across the finish line.
And though I ended up writing over 60,000 words in July (I guess unemployment is good for something?) the WIP still wasn't finished.
Here it is, now, the end of September and...that damn WIP still isn't finished.
I wouldn't mind so much if I hadn't been truly working on it. If I had been slacking off in a hammock somewhere sipping daiquiris instead of writing, for example. Or, if I had a day job that was making ungodly demands on my life—you know, like what I used to have.
But that's not the case. I haven't been slacking off in a hammock sipping daiquiris or anything else. (Though, if I were drunk, I might be more willing to go outside.) And I don't have a day job. Nope. I'm unemployed. Because I have a job history (and a possible attitude problem) I am unemployable in this region, so writing is my full-time job.
I am a full-time writer.
This terrifies me because I've been working on the same project for over 18 months without actually finishing a draft.
|I am this tortoise. Morla is me.|
(I am absolutely impressed and amazed by authors who have published more than one book. Who have finished more than one book. As soon as I finish with this post, I shall go build monuments to your greatness because you are all incredible rock stars, and I bow before you.)
I keep writing scenes—whatever I'm inspired to write, to see what fits, what works, what feels right. And though I've written some stuff I like, I know it's not right for the story. But I can't figure out what is right for the story.
As my long-suffering brother said (on his way to the Protection From Writers Program, I'm sure), I'm identifying ways not to write my novel, which is still progress in its way.
It's just not particularly fast progress.
I'm trying not to put too much pressure on myself, because I do think that can stifle creativity, but there's always this little robot in the back of my mind saying, "Full-time job. Full-time job. This is your full-time job."
That little robot is kind of a jerk.
In the meantime, I am editing a little, brainstorming a lot (and loudly, some have said), and waiting, waiting, waiting for this elusive inspiration to strike.
I hope it comes soon because there's, like, five people waiting to read this book.
What do you do when you're waiting for inspiration to strike?
Have a great Wednesday, everyone. Thanks for listening to me ramble.
Oh, and because no semi-Neverending Story-themed post would be complete without Falkor, there's this: