So I'm in the middle of stuff. I mean, loadsastuff. I've got half written collections, new collections, collections waiting to be published. Shorts waiting editing, shorts out on tout. Novel in editing. Novel half written.
Most of the time I just plug at it. Chip away. Sob. Drink.
But I have reflected.
Not so long ago I was writing for anthologies. Solely. I would write for specific calls and then submit. I think I did well.
Wow. That was a buzz. Sending off two, three, five shorts a week - and the flash - and then waiting. The biting of nails. The wailing. The gnashing of teeth.
I don't get that now. Not really. I've got some stuff out, but at the moment, and through most of this year I've been working on things that take time. When I started writing these things that take time, I was of the opinion that it was going to be easy, you know, three novels in the first year, couple of collections...
... well life's not like that. Sometimes it gets in the way. And then... oh yes... and then writing a novel isn't the end of it. 'Bout to start the next draft.
Day after day passes...
Week after week...
Month after month...
You know what? I miss the buzz.
Just sometimes. And I look at my collection of unfinished collections, novels and collaborations, and say, 'No. Finish what you have begun first. Take time to find the buzz later.'
Am I right?
Any writer that moves from shorts to novels must feel it. I can't be alone. Can I?
'Til next time...
PS: Wanna play a game?
The upcoming post 'Schrodinger's Horror' is a participation event. Monday coming. Be a part of the experiment. Here.