This weekend has been a lost one for me. My husband drove up to Monterey to help our married, Army son put in a backyard for his doggies. My other son, who still lives with us, met a girl online and went out with her and discovered she and he have lots in common. There will be more dates. But, me? I sat here in my wheelchair and twiddled my thumbs.
First off, even though I got my cast removed this past week, the surgery site hadn’t healed completely, so I couldn’t resume walking. Secondly, I finished my work in progress and submitted it to my publisher. Now I’m in the waiting game. What makes it more difficult is that I don’t know what to work on next. Do I start something new, or revise something else I wrote in earlier times? I don’t know.
It’s a bittersweet feeling when an author finishes writing a book. There’s elation to have the story completed, and there is anxiety that, once submitted, will it be accepted. And, lastly, where do I go from here?
I just spent five months of my life in the Old West, rewriting a romance I first penned in 2011, when I didn’t know a thing about writing except that I liked it. It took a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to make it into a novel worth publishing. And now it’s finished.
While I wait to see if my publisher likes it, what do I do? I don’t have any romantic plots hammering in my head, begging to be written down. I miss the western characters that have been my imaginary friends since May, and don’t have any replacements. I’m lost.
That’s not to say I don’t have irons in the fire. I have a contemporary romance coming out in April, 2018. If the western is accepted, it might also debut next year, so I have 2018 covered, as far as publishing. However, what’s next?
For the past few years, I’ve gotten up and worked on whatever was my latest romance. I enjoy that morning burst of creativity. Unfortunately, now all I do is cruise social media, going down the internet rabbit hole, wasting lots of time that could be spent on plotting my next book, or editing a previously written one. I can’t seem to make a decision.
I’ve always had trouble transitioning after finishing a novel. It’s like losing my friends when I write those two words, The End. I mope about the house, reread what I wrote, and get a lot of cleaning done that was neglected during my writing phase. But I’ve always had a story simmering in the back of my mind, waiting for me to get over my sulkiness and write it. Not this time.
First off, even though I got my cast removed this past week, the surgery site hadn’t healed completely, so I couldn’t resume walking. Secondly, I finished my work in progress and submitted it to my publisher. Now I’m in the waiting game. What makes it more difficult is that I don’t know what to work on next. Do I start something new, or revise something else I wrote in earlier times? I don’t know.
It’s a bittersweet feeling when an author finishes writing a book. There’s elation to have the story completed, and there is anxiety that, once submitted, will it be accepted. And, lastly, where do I go from here?
I just spent five months of my life in the Old West, rewriting a romance I first penned in 2011, when I didn’t know a thing about writing except that I liked it. It took a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to make it into a novel worth publishing. And now it’s finished.
While I wait to see if my publisher likes it, what do I do? I don’t have any romantic plots hammering in my head, begging to be written down. I miss the western characters that have been my imaginary friends since May, and don’t have any replacements. I’m lost.
That’s not to say I don’t have irons in the fire. I have a contemporary romance coming out in April, 2018. If the western is accepted, it might also debut next year, so I have 2018 covered, as far as publishing. However, what’s next?
For the past few years, I’ve gotten up and worked on whatever was my latest romance. I enjoy that morning burst of creativity. Unfortunately, now all I do is cruise social media, going down the internet rabbit hole, wasting lots of time that could be spent on plotting my next book, or editing a previously written one. I can’t seem to make a decision.
I’ve always had trouble transitioning after finishing a novel. It’s like losing my friends when I write those two words, The End. I mope about the house, reread what I wrote, and get a lot of cleaning done that was neglected during my writing phase. But I’ve always had a story simmering in the back of my mind, waiting for me to get over my sulkiness and write it. Not this time.
Maybe it’s because of my foot surgery, and the fact I know I will be busy with physical therapy. Maybe it’s the approaching holidays, and the knowledge that those will keep me occupied. I don’t know. But I miss escaping into an imaginary world of my own creation. I miss that powerful zing that rushes through me as I put an idea onto the screen, that feeling of excitement as I see the story take shape. I miss creating.
While writing this, I continue to thrash around ideas in my head. I still haven’t come to a conclusion. Writing a short Christmas story would surely satisfy my creative need, but what happens when edits for my next book come back to me? Likewise, if they don’t come back to me until January, I’ve just wasted a lot of good writing time. Decision, decisions.
Have you ever been in this position, a creative slump? It doesn’t have to be writing. It could be drawing, or painting, or pottery, or even, cooking. How did you jump start your creativity? I’d love to know.
While writing this, I continue to thrash around ideas in my head. I still haven’t come to a conclusion. Writing a short Christmas story would surely satisfy my creative need, but what happens when edits for my next book come back to me? Likewise, if they don’t come back to me until January, I’ve just wasted a lot of good writing time. Decision, decisions.
Have you ever been in this position, a creative slump? It doesn’t have to be writing. It could be drawing, or painting, or pottery, or even, cooking. How did you jump start your creativity? I’d love to know.
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