Last Updated on December 8, 2020 by ThoughtsStained
I’ve been going a little stir-crazy the past few days, ever since this happened. I’ve learned that it’s important to let your work breathe, after completing a draft. Jumping right back in, regardless of how desperately you need to or how much you really want to fix that one scene that’s been nagging at you since chapter three. By letting your work breathe, you’re able to return later with a more critical eye, refreshed, and your work will only improve because of it.
I know this and I’ve managed to stay away from Artemis’s story, even though I really want to keep the ball rolling, editing through another draft before I send out the call for beta readers and critique partners. But coming off of the most impressive writing output I have ever managed to writing absolutely nothing is driving me a little bonkers.
It’s only been four days, people.
The itch to write and create that has been driving me insane–even with the distractions of family and friends this weekend–is something I wouldn’t trade for anything, however. It’s a sign of how much I’ve grown as a writer, proof of how important these stories are for me and my emotional well-being. It shows the weight I have placed on them and the adjustment I’ve made in my life in order to give writing the utmost importance, starting last year during NaNoWriMo. (Speaking of NaNoWriMo, have you seen their new T-shirts for this year? Holy shit, I’m totally going to splurge and buy one. I love them!)
I’m super proud to have grown so much, to the point where not writing for multiple days in a row causes me to feel a sort of emptiness and incompleteness that was otherwise being filled (yet, at the same time, I no longer feel guilt when life gets in the way or I choose to take a break). And while I don’t think I’m going to start writing another project until this November, working on a manuscript tentatively titled BLOOD’S PRICE, I do have another way to scratch this itch.
And, Lord help me, I’m actually ridiculously excited to edit (if that doesn’t prove my insanity, then I can’t help you).
In the Spring, I wrote a novel–light on the science fiction, heavy on the need for gravestones–titled THE RESISTANCE, which focuses on one of the survivors of a war that no one realized was being waged until it was already over and 95% of the human population had been killed. The remaining 5%? Yeah, they are being harvested to power the droids, who are the special project of the singular man that wiped out the rest of humanity. Grayson Price wakes up to this world of extinction and has one purpose (aside from figuring out what the F is going on): reuniting with his soulmate, Rowan. As he learns about the new horrors of the world–which include total colorblindness amongst the survivors, droids, alien technology and a cracked Futurist who believes by exterminating the human race, he’s actually saving them–he knows he cannot survive it. So might as well put his efforts into something more productive.
Like not dying alone.
This story is so different from my usual niche of writing multi-POV fantasy. It was a lot of fun to write, though it had its difficult moments where my fingers dragged across the keyboard. When I finally finished it, I felt two things: stoked for how the ending turned out and the immediate desire to turn around and start editing it, as I already knew how I wanted to heighten the beginning. But I ignored that desire, knowing that this story would be better off if I let it alone for a while. Instead, I took a few weeks off, made an outline and started working on Artemis’s story.
I think it is only proper–and comes full circle–if I stave off my desire to immediately edit Artemis’s story by returning to the destitute and dark reality that Grayson is suffering through.
*pulls out red pen*