we don't know who we are anymore
I have been doing a lot of soul-searching about writing, and lots of talking to many people about this. Karin asked me if I wanted to write or if I wanted to be published. We talked through it for awhile and I knew that if I could look into my future and see that I was never, ever going to be published that it wouldn't stop me from writing. However, I won't deny that I would like to be published. I, and several others, are of the opinion that it's something I'm very good at, and it seems a bit silly not to try to make a living (or at least a little extra cash) from something that I'm good at, could give me more financial/employment freedom, and gives me creative satisfaction. I mean, that's really the whole package.
Another point Karin brought up is that right now, I'm of an age where I could be more profitable to an agent/publisher/etc., but in a couple years I'll be thirty and it won't be the same, so I need to hurry. Writing another book while good_fortune stews is a decent idea, creatively, but she says I need to cut it down (it's about five times too long right now, I think), get it to a publishable state, and start sending it off. She's spent several years working in the literary industry, so I trust her advice, and think she's absolutely right.
So that's that. I don't know how I'm cutting it down, what has to go, what must stay, how I'm going to say goodbye to sections of the book that I really love. I will, obviously, have lots of material available if I ever had to do a prequel or sequel, but I'm not going to spend time building a franchise that may never exist. Let's get this thing written, Ames, and let's let it go for awhile.
I also am kicking around ideas for my next two books, which are totally different from good_fortune and from each other. One is more vague than the other at this point, but the exploration part can be really fun, and hopefully I can juggle it with the editing process.
I hate that it matters. As much as I love writing, I've come to see a painful side of it, with writers block and frustration and sentimentality and the fact that not getting or not being able to do it feels a bit like losing a friend or a limb and sometimes I really, really wish it didn't fucking matter. I wish work and friends and family and my other projects were enough. If only my too-full life felt complete without writing. I may not even be very good, and yet I stop and the absence is felt.
Another point Karin brought up is that right now, I'm of an age where I could be more profitable to an agent/publisher/etc., but in a couple years I'll be thirty and it won't be the same, so I need to hurry. Writing another book while good_fortune stews is a decent idea, creatively, but she says I need to cut it down (it's about five times too long right now, I think), get it to a publishable state, and start sending it off. She's spent several years working in the literary industry, so I trust her advice, and think she's absolutely right.
So that's that. I don't know how I'm cutting it down, what has to go, what must stay, how I'm going to say goodbye to sections of the book that I really love. I will, obviously, have lots of material available if I ever had to do a prequel or sequel, but I'm not going to spend time building a franchise that may never exist. Let's get this thing written, Ames, and let's let it go for awhile.
I also am kicking around ideas for my next two books, which are totally different from good_fortune and from each other. One is more vague than the other at this point, but the exploration part can be really fun, and hopefully I can juggle it with the editing process.
I hate that it matters. As much as I love writing, I've come to see a painful side of it, with writers block and frustration and sentimentality and the fact that not getting or not being able to do it feels a bit like losing a friend or a limb and sometimes I really, really wish it didn't fucking matter. I wish work and friends and family and my other projects were enough. If only my too-full life felt complete without writing. I may not even be very good, and yet I stop and the absence is felt.