Ever since I was given the go-ahead to mention my upcoming novel here on my blog, I’ve been combating this timid anxiety trying to creep its way into my brain. “Relax,” I tell myself. “It’s still a year away” – give or take. It’s not about that novel, though. It’s about what comes next.
The process is so long, shouldn’t I already have another book submitted by now? If so, which one? Confession time again: I’m possibly the epitome of everything those help articles tell you NOT to do as a writer. I cannot sit down and write just one novel at a time. My creative juices don’t flow that way. I have no less than 2 dozen novels in the works – that have been in the works for months to years – impatiently waiting for my attention to return to them. It will. It always does.
Don’t get me wrong, I believe in the power of discipline as a writer. I write and (try to read) every day. Yes, even beyond this new addiction called blogging!
Whether it’s new ideas for old stories – or new ideas in general – I always have my notebook right beside me, where I can quickly stem the spontaneous hemorrhaging. I have other ‘finished’ novels; they possess a beginning, middle and end, but they’re far from done. Haven’t yet been put through the wringer of polishing and re-editing needed to meet my own standards, let alone a publisher’s.
Should I force myself to focus on one of these, so I can hurry up and get them submitted? Or should I keep letting my creativity control the course of my attention? As a reader, when I find an author I thoroughly enjoy, I can’t wait for their next book to come out. Since I don’t have any readers – YET – I’m not entirely sure who I would be ‘rushing’ for. Myself? My publisher? Or the potential readers I might acquire after the publication of The Zen Lounge? Perhaps, all of us.
All I know, is I’m starting to feel antsy and it’s driving me crazy. I hate feeling like I’m not working fast enough, that I’m going to miss some imagined deadline. It’s times like these that I wish I actually had control over my own creativity. Blasted, single-track bastard. It’s official, my creativity is male. Ha! There, that should get some comments… bring it, fellas. 😉