I've been at this writing thing for a long time now. I've had a certain
amount of success. I have two non-fiction books under my belt, a nice
number of magazine articles, and a steady (though not entirely as steady
as I'd like!) income from my writing. And through it all, I've been
moonlighting, writing the kind of stories that take me away, that turn
me on, that make me feel like I'm living in another universe. I've never
tried publishing them.
They were not good. I knew that while I was writing them. Writing
fiction is so different from non-fiction, it seems bizarre to call both
things "writing." The confidence I have when writing about the things I
write about for my day job just disappears when I'm writing fiction.
But, that's changing. Years of practicing, of reading like an addict,
and I'm slowly but surely working my way toward submitting. I've been
working on an urban fantasy novel for a while, and it's on its third
draft. Each draft makes it feel less like my baby and more like a real
book. This is progress.
Revision is hard. Revision makes me want to pull my hair out and scream
into the night. But revision turns all of that mess of emotion and sex
that is in my brain into an actual story. But it gets to be a bit much
by the third time around.
I took a break, and wrote a novella. I like it. I'm not sure anyone will
publish it, but I had a blast writing it and I learned a few things
about storytelling. This time was not wasted. And it was a much-needed
break from revision that stoked my creative fire again. I am ready to go
again.
The only problem (if you want to call it that!) is that now I have two
pieces in revision. Though, I'll take that problem over having nothing
to revise at all.
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