Dear readers and friends,My blog is changing. I’ll be sharing more personal perspectives on the writing life rather than teaching fiction. I find that I need to commit more time to my writing, and some things, alas, must go. It’s exciting to have a new book coming out, and of course, the next one’s under way. They’ll now get more of my attention. I hope you’ll still drop by and catch some of my musings on the writing life and, soon, some insights into my latest book. With many thanks–Kay
As I write this, I’m embarking on a new novel. As usual with any new book I work on, I don’t talk about my concept. Talking about the book too soon seems to cool the fire I need to get started on the venture–to believe the story is possible, to commit my energy to the next fictive dream.
But I still want to talk about my writing experience. The wins, losses, hopes, frustrations, and those occasional spectacular gifts from the writing gods.
Today my observations on this insane process of novel writing relates to how incredibly high story hopes climb at the beginning. I’ve seen it many times with my books, and sometimes with short stories, that at first there is a kind of love affair with a story.
Serial book love
Why does the next story always seem like the most exciting project ever? The finished books are all very well, but one has, after all, written, and rewritten, and read them ad nauseum, down to the final galleys. So they fade in the heart, a little. Oh, but the WIP! And that goes for my latest WIP. I just love this new story. At least the potential of it.
After so long in the business, I’m schooled enough to be humble, but in the back of my mind, I’m saying this one is dazzling.
Or is it? Maybe I’m getting better in some ways with each book I write. And it’s at least possible that I have a tiger by the tail with the latest one. But it might just as easily be an infatuation with something new.
Maybe it’s serial book love. An excitement untainted by the practical matter of getting that brilliant story down on the cold, white page. There will be battles and doubts ahead. The new love will no doubt prove to have feet of clay. . . and I may love it just a little less, eventually. But, no matter. We take what the writing gods offer.
Today I’m in love.