After procrastinating all summer, making excuse after whining excuse, I have done what I promised my friends, family, and all five of my fans what I would do. I sat down at my computer, opened a blank Word document, and wrote:
Work in Progress
by Sandy Bruney
And I kept on writing for a couple of hours. Moreover, I have sat down every single day and written something, even if it was only a correction or adjustment to what I had written the day before.
And I’m excited. I’m not sure if this story is any good (I think it is) or if I will be able to maintain the pace. (I hope I can). The point is, I am writing again after a long dry spell. I feel like someone who has given up chocolate for some obscure reason and decided to try it once more, only to be reminded at the first taste how good it is, even better than she remembered. And savors the melting sweetness on her tongue, wondering why she ever gave it up in the first place.
Yep, that’s how I feel. I’m excited and energized. I’m falling in love with my characters. I’m at the point where I need to create a cheat sheet so I can keep them straight. I’ve already called one character by two different names, but I caught it before I went too far.
I am not a writer who sits down and draws up a list of characters and their descriptions, personality quirks and so on; My characters wander into the story and tell me who they are. Sometimes they arrive fully fleshed out. Other times, I have to wait while they reveal themselves piece by piece. It’s always fun, either way.
As for the plot, I have a good idea where it’s going, but I love being surprised by the little twists and turns that pop up while I’m thinking about something else.
There’s a little added quirk to this story. I made myself a promise that I would not get sidetracked and I would not tell myself I can write as soon as I complete this or that chore around the house and yard. I know from experience that once I start raking or cleaning or whatever, I will be too exhausted to write. So my new order of business is write first and then I give myself permission to haul out the rake or dust mop.
To my amazement, it doesn’t work in reverse order. Instead of feeling too tired to tackle the waiting chores, I finish writing and am eager to do something physical. I’ve written a couple thousand words this week and also trimmed the hedge, scrubbed the bedroom carpet, and washed the hall and kitchen floors–all chores I have been putting off for lack of energy.
I don’t know why this works, but I’m really happy it does. Moreover, my mood is better because–ta da–my guilty conscience has slunk away.
I’m not saying what the new book is about yet, but I met a woman in the library today who, being told I was a writer, asked if I wrote romance.
“There’s romance in every story,” I told her. “What’s life without it?”