New Year’s resolutions are peculiar kinds of self-imposed torture devices.
Diet, (but I looove chocolate), Exercise, (but it’s too cold outside to put in my miles), Write (but the whole mess swirling in my head won’t come out)
So it’s with a big ol’ eye roll that I put it in writing again to say …
I resolve to finish my second book. (Exhale)
It’s not even my second really if you count the pile of words I slapped a NaNoWriMo badge on a year ago or the hundred or so pages of two dead-in-the-water stories I’ll continue to leave bobbing around in the murky past.
But book number two in my two-part series cannot fall victim to my excuses anymore. (I’m saying this to myself more than you *wink*)
I’ve had some setbacks this past year that have left me with no other choice but to confess and move forward with a plan to commit to finishing what I started … again.
Writing in first-person and using a dual POV has become my favorite style of storytelling, which is one of the reasons I’m stalling on knocking out my second. The story only works if I tell it through a deep third-person POV. Besides, the consistency has to be there to match the first novel. If it wasn’t, OCD me would faint from the horror. Nevertheless, I keep dodging my document in lieu of adding pages to my other works.
Another reason is I can’t get the voice of a particular MC out of my head lately. Her incessant chatter keeps spilling out of me, and despite my shameful need to stay the course on getting past the first handful of pages of my second novel, I find myself constantly pecking out her quirky rants. She’s not even supposed to make an appearance for another seven books.
Yep. Seven. See, I haven’t been completely wasting my writerly time doing “nothing”.
Once the current WIP is complete, I am going to roll out a five-novel series, followed by another five-novel series both of which I’ve spent the last year character building and plot-weaving for at least five years’ worth of publishing material. See a trend here. I might need to make five resolutions to lock in my self-imposed jinx, I mean, commitment.
If I’d just get off my lazy a$$ and do the writing thing already.
Maybe lazy is too harsh. I haven’t been “not” writing, I’ve just been leaving words elsewhere.
I can’t deny that being in query limbo with a couple of agents for what feels like forever hasn’t thrown a dimmer switch on my motivation either. I’m more than likely going to nudge once more in hopes of getting closure with the full I’ve had in the hands of one particular agent, but a year of twiddling my thumbs is shameful on my part. A year. Ouch.
I have to wonder if my junk mail somehow ate the rejection letter, or the MS got lost in the hundreds of others I know that particular agent receives a week, or if it really does take that long to get an answer. I could go on and on, but you get the idea. I’ve been mulling the what-if’s too long with this little bump in the road to traditional publication.
And I’ve also been avoiding some head-butting at home that often comes with being a romance novelist with an active imagination. (uh, yeah, I’ll leave that explanation to the imagination like I do my closed door scenes)
So, in the end, I need to reach an end, and the quickest way to do that is to start or at least start where I left off and slough off the excuses. So I’m giving myself a New Year’s countdown to get on with my resolutions in five, four, three, two, …