My first thought at realizing we have an extra hour tonight was, "Yes! I can stay up late and write!"
Such has been my thought since 2008 when I began writing Bryony in earnest.
Never did I dream that my dream of writing one novel would span a trilogy, a five-book prequel, a chapter book series, a children's series, and one cookbook.
Fifteen books so far with more chapter books and children's books outlined.
And a werewolf story that's scarcely more than a good idea. But I told Rebekah tonight I'd like to release it by Halloween.
Today I had this romantic notion of sitting at my computer, coffee by my side, desk light providing my only illumination, and starting the werewolf story. Because I love being lost in creativity and a good story.
Except I really am worded out. And putting out another novel in 2019 when I'll be editing and publishing five other ones, along with (hopefully) a couple more each of Cornell and Bertrand just sounds, well, hard.
Especially since the story is, at this point, only a premise, a few details, a title, and random ideas and phrases.
Granted, the werewolf story is a shorter standalone. And maybe Halloween is plausible.
And maybe it it not. At least, for 2019.
For most of my life, I've steeped myself in the words and thoughts of other writers. As a child. As a student. And especially as a homeschool parent, which provided the richest and most abundant years of reading.
For the last ten years, I've drawn on those wells to craft my own stories. I've read less, written more.
That well is tapped.
I literally wrung out the last word droplets with the fifth and final book of Before the Blood.
What's a writer to do?
Dig a new well, of course. And my tools are the same tools of the past. Everyone else's words.
So tonight, as soon as I post this blog, I'll be sitting on my bed, coffee by my side, desk light providing my only illumination, and reading one of the novels from the stacked up piles.
What's in those piles? Mostly books written by writer friends that I've never read or started to read, and, indeed, want to read. Others are books my kids have, for years, urged me to read.
So now is the time.
Because I have an extra hour tonight.
Such has been my thought since 2008 when I began writing Bryony in earnest.
Never did I dream that my dream of writing one novel would span a trilogy, a five-book prequel, a chapter book series, a children's series, and one cookbook.
Fifteen books so far with more chapter books and children's books outlined.
And a werewolf story that's scarcely more than a good idea. But I told Rebekah tonight I'd like to release it by Halloween.
Today I had this romantic notion of sitting at my computer, coffee by my side, desk light providing my only illumination, and starting the werewolf story. Because I love being lost in creativity and a good story.
Except I really am worded out. And putting out another novel in 2019 when I'll be editing and publishing five other ones, along with (hopefully) a couple more each of Cornell and Bertrand just sounds, well, hard.
Especially since the story is, at this point, only a premise, a few details, a title, and random ideas and phrases.
Granted, the werewolf story is a shorter standalone. And maybe Halloween is plausible.
And maybe it it not. At least, for 2019.
For most of my life, I've steeped myself in the words and thoughts of other writers. As a child. As a student. And especially as a homeschool parent, which provided the richest and most abundant years of reading.
For the last ten years, I've drawn on those wells to craft my own stories. I've read less, written more.
That well is tapped.
I literally wrung out the last word droplets with the fifth and final book of Before the Blood.
What's a writer to do?
Dig a new well, of course. And my tools are the same tools of the past. Everyone else's words.
So tonight, as soon as I post this blog, I'll be sitting on my bed, coffee by my side, desk light providing my only illumination, and reading one of the novels from the stacked up piles.
What's in those piles? Mostly books written by writer friends that I've never read or started to read, and, indeed, want to read. Others are books my kids have, for years, urged me to read.
So now is the time.
Because I have an extra hour tonight.
Illustration by Kathleen Rose Van Pelt for "Bryony."
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