A couple of weeks have passed since I’ve had a finished novel in my hands. A couple of weeks since I gave it to someone very important, and in another week, it’ll be going to someone else so important, I swear she must have mixed up names and actually wanted to see someone else’s manuscript.
This is sort of like waiting to get into college again. Albeit a lot stranger, and then, there’s no guarantee you’ll get in at all.
In the meanwhile, I’m putting this strange journey behind me for a few beats and working on the new piece that I started back in March (yes, he has a name now - phewf!). I’ve been so insanely busy with finishing You Destroyed Everything that I’ve scarcely thought of new work, save for ocassional drips and drabs. Even though the novel is at a place where I don’t want to touch it until my industry feedback comes around, I’m still in my MFA class, and still have the opportunity to put my prose up for critique. So, I’ve dug up the “new” piece, and have been staring at it for the last few days, trying to push it forward. I’ve added some new stuff and have some ideas in the pipe, but I’m finding it strange getting back into a fictional world that isn’t Christian and Paige’s, and once again dealing with wielding the power to shape a character’s life. How curious it is that the only thing I’ve been able to think about for the past three years is fiction, and now, I’m finding it tough to thrust myself back in.
I’m looking forward to actually seeing new words on paper, but mostly to feeling that zip race through me again when I get struck by that insaitable need to write a scene or a character. I’m confident I can love different characters again - I just need to push.
M
