Okay, I have to admit it….I’m struggling with my current work in progress. Last time I wrote to you all, I told you that I’d cut over 1600 words….and now, I’ve cut more.
I’m not sure why I’m struggling. Maybe because I’ve been working on this WIP for quite some time. I usually write a book a year (I’m a slow but steady writer). I had a nice flow going and then COVID hit and I found that I just couldn’t concentrate (plus I started working from home at that time which really messed up my routine…and as you all know, my life revolves around my routines!).
I didn’t write a blessed word for over four months.
After that period of time (where I found a new routine), I decided enough is enough. I love writing. It’s my passion. My joy. My sanity (it’s the only place I can really control everything). I enjoy making up stories and characters so I started working on it again (sometimes forcing myself) and once again, I was moving along at a nice steady clip. And then, I lost over 5000 words and had to recreate what I lost, which again, put me behind schedule.
I was ready to give up and just work on something else, but I couldn’t. My characters kept…well, badgering me is the only way I can say it. In my head. All the time.
I’m slowly turning it around though. I had a lovely conversation with my critique partner and we’ve pinpointed the problem. It’s not the story. It’s not the characters. It’s me and the self-appointed timeline that has always been my mantra, the one that keeps repeating over and over--one book a year. One book a year.
Well, this book is taking more than a year, but you know what? It doesn’t matter. So what if it takes two years? That’s okay. As long as the finished product is the very best I can do, that’s all that matters.
I think I’ll go write some words! Thanks for listening!