Why, oh why, oh why does all that pesky real life stuff have to get in the way of the more important things in life? The past few months have been quite an interesting experience, not to mention a great lesson to me with regard to my writing.
What did it show me? Well, I guess the first thing was how events that happen outside of my own fantastical world of writing about mystical creatures and far off lands, is affected by the things that make real life tick. You know the ones; work, an income, a home and all of the other little bits and bats that mean you get to wake up each morning, have a steaming mug of coffee and then bumble through the day with as little thought as you can get away with.
So, the unexpected end of my assignment in the Cairngorms, followed by a snap decision to relocate back to my beloved Yorkshire, have meant that my creative juices decided to put themselves into "dormant mode" whilst my quite inept practical self rose up and tried to move 400 miles back down the road. It's almost hilarious how easy it is to set aside something that has dominated your life for as long as writing has dominated mine. In fact, until a week ago I had almost forgotten that I have ever picked up a keyboard. Oh how I miss the days of a quill and ink well!
Then, without warning, up pops the bright idea and all of a sudden the obsession returns once more. It was a little like receiving an electric shock, or somebody jabbing a pin into your bum. All of a sudden my thirst to write was painfully acute, and not just there in a "hi I'm here" kind of way, but instead it was burning to let out all of the things that must have been subconsciously building inside me, even though my inept practical self was serenely oblivious to the fact that anything was happening inside my tiny, one dimensional mind.
My first thought was to return to my novel. It's about 80% written in first draft and needs only a couple more weeks to have that elusive, first full manuscript of a novel sitting proudly waiting to be edited to death, But, you see, there's been this bit of grit in my shoe for quite some time now. I started a children's book some years ago that was, and still is, something that I really wanted to finish. The idea had come to me in a flash one day whilst on a bus to Harrogate for a couple of beers with friends. The journey had been quite boring, so my inner child like mind wandered off into yet another fantasy, as so often it does. By the time I had reached my destination, the entire series of seven books was there in plain sight, even the characters were fully formed.
It had taken me only a matter of days to write the first draft, a rhyming, fun children's story that included morals, creatures, a land of fantasy and quite a bit more. But, being the perfectionist that I suppose most writers are, I then toiled with it on and off for what seemed an eternity, before eventually putting it down two years ago and frustratingly giving up on it.
Eureka! Well, perhaps not quite Eureka, more an inner determination after a very long, stern talk to myself, that if I can't raise myself to finish a children's story, then I have no chance of ever getting my first novel over the line.
One day. That was it. Within just one day of steely, grit filled determination it was finished. And not just a draft finish. For the first time I had actually got it to the point where there wasn't a single word, phrase, rhyme or character that I would change. What a relief it was, it felt like I finally had the chance to say to my chiding self "I told you so".
After quite a bit of research I eventually settled on an agent who looks open minded, supportive and genuine, and have now packaged it up and sent it across with at least all of my fingers, toes, knees and eyes crossed. If I've missed anything then please let me know! So now I shall wait, that long, agonising wait to see if they think I might be worthy of being rep'd.
The thing is though, that I am happy with it. I wouldn't change anything, meaning that hope aside, I have taken off my shoe, given it a good shake and got that piece of grit out once and for all. Perhaps more importantly, or not, I can now move on with getting my manuscript finished for my novel. I'm reluctant to say that it'll be done in a couple of weeks in a first draft form, only because I know from the past few months that maybe a meteor will strike my house and I'll have to move again, or the milkman will forget to deliver one day, leaving me devoid of the life blood that is coffee.
Whatever happens in the next few weeks and months I can only look ahead. That means I have the excitement of my children's book and the endless day dreaming possibilities if the agent were to miraculously say yes, and I also have the obsessive desire to get my novel finished.
Oh, and then there's all that real life stuff. I suppose I should think about getting a job some day soon, but perhaps I'll just stay in my fantastical world for just a little while longer.
Great to hear you have finished your children's book. Best of luck with that. And glad you are returning to your novel. Writing is an addiction, I find. But it's a relatively harmless addiction! I hope you get that finished too, and find a market for it. Or you can always try self-publishing. Good luck.
ReplyDelete