Missing the Thrill
Writing is full of small tasks that can ultimately be exhausting. I knew this going in, honest, but I guess I hoped that if I kept moving, I’d be able to outpace that. For a while, it seemed true, but not at the moment. No, I’m not feeling burned out. I’ve experienced that at enough day jobs that I recognize the sensation easily. This isn’t it. No, it’s just that I’ve slowed down in a number of ways and then, on top of it, I had a fairly crappy weekend.
Nothing really bad happened, don’t anyone worry. Just somebody putting a little eff you into my Friday and me spending the weekend mentally chewing it over. Truthfully, I’m still doing a bit of that today. Don’t know how long that’s going to go on. I’m kind of like that sometimes.
What I really want, more than anything else right now, is to bury myself in writing something, preferably something long and at least somewhat involved. I need something that will command my attention, all of it and let me leave the shit behind. For me, that’s one of the biggest thrills of writing a new draft, losing myself in my own story and world. I really do, every time. I think it’s one of the many reasons the words often flow so quickly for me when I’m drafting, that I’m so deep in there’s nothing else for a while. I only seem to struggle when I come up for air and can’t dive deep again.
Of course, my responsible self (yes, such a creature exists, don’t laugh) points out how much editing I need to do. Seriously, there’s a ton. I need to get Through Windows and Hearts out for feedback, but instead I’m doing another slow pass. On paper. Why? Because I felt like something wasn’t working but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I figured that the change of medium might help. Of course, then I have to enter it all, but whatever. After that, I have like 3 novels I need to do revisions on. Did I mention the short stories I need to go through? Clearly I could be at this for months.
I’m having so much trouble making myself do any this. Okay, I don’t have anything long enough to suit me ready to write. The only thing outlined and on deck is a short story that I’m not feeling ready to write yet. There’s a partially outlined novella, and since it’s Devan, it’s tempting as all hell. Anyone who’s been reading this blog for a while knows I’m excessively attached to my Necromancer. I will take virtually any chance to think about him, write about him, anything. I could probably dig into that happily, if not for my desire to be WRITING, not outlining.
On a similar note, I am slowly building the new outline for What Lies Beneath, while still making notes and building out a number of aspects. The ending is trying to play hide and seek with me but I’m going to hunt it down yet. The decision to go dual PoV has so far been a good one, adding a lot of texture to the story. Viz has his own story going on and everything that happens between he and Reah is going to be complicated by factors on both sides. And I’m enjoying outlining it (though I’m only a couple points in so far), yet I’m also a bit, well, terrified. I think this is going to be another long one, and complex. I’m a bit afraid I’m bitting too much off, but I don’t actually intend to let that stop me. Why would I? I might learn a lot from doing this, whether it succeeds or fails. I have a vague hope of being ready to write this for April Camp NaNo, but I kinda doubt that it’ll be at that point without rushing. And of course, I’m not writing now and I want to be.
I miss the excitement of the words and story racing with me, you see. When it’s flowing well, it’s like standing in a torrent that flows through you instead of over. The best kind of torrent ever. Those times, I feel like there’s no way I will be able to keep up with the words, but I’m going to do everything I can to do it anyway. It’s a wonderful feeling, but I have to remember that finishing is also amazing. I need to do the editing, or nothing ever gets finished and then no one gets to read any of it.
And I love to share my work with you. With everyone really. *trundles back to editing”