My first book is off, in the hands of its first reader, which has left me with copious amounts of time to play around. I refuse to pick the red pen again, as of right now, since God only knows what the reader will see change worthy…I’m giving them the floor, so to speak.
So, naturally, what’s a writer to do with empty time? Write, of course!
This is probably a good place to make a confession…I should just tell you…my first book was easy. E. A. S. Y. I started writing and click, click, click…it came together. It was like the characters told me where to take the story as opposed to me forcing it along. The truth is, I was spoiled by the Chamberland’s. Never a minute of writer’s block…I even managed to pound out pages on our way to Caribbean this summer. It took practically no extreme effort to tell their story.
This go round? Not so much.
I have three really genre specific ideas. You’d think–wow, that’s easy enough, girl, get writing!
But, when I start, and get tangled up almost immediately. I don’t know these people who I’m trying to craft, and damn them, but they aren’t helping me one bit!!
I wonder if this is normal? If there is something very organic about what I’m trying to do now–and all the pitfalls I’m tripping into?
Here’s the deal…
I try to tell genuine stories. When I was writing my first book, I really attempted to jump into their lives, to explore their feelings and thoughts and pain. I didn’t shy away from uncomfortable, I embraced it all. And I did find that methodology worked for me. So, I’m trying again…to tell the grass roots story of real, yet imaginary, lives. I won’t do it if it’s not right…I won’t force it if it’s not meant to be. But, these idea’s feel good. One in particular.
Writing is real, honest work.