With all fondness and respect to my first literary baby and its four-year gestation period, I’ve longed to get on and write something different.
At last. At last… I’ve finally started work on the follow-up to Singled Out. I’ve been a Writer Without Portfolio for so many months now, that simply beginning to write words for another novel this week is a huge step.
I finished editing Singled Out in September 2013 – or so I thought. I spent several months touting it round to literary agents before realising it needed more work. Summer 2014 saw me reworking the weaker points, tweaking and honing. You could, at a stretch, argue that I was writing; there were several chunks of new text to which my creative brain was expected to apply itself. But to my mind, this was all still… editing.
Weeks of cover design, formatting, uploading, previewing and blurbing – the mechanics of self-publishing – followed. Then came those few weeks when all I could do was gaze at my KDP and CreateSpace reports and my Amazon and Goodreads reviews and will them onwards and upwards.
‘Call yourself a writer?’ sniped the little voice in my head, again and again. It couldn’t go on. I actually began to feel guilty about my lack of commitment – and the continued absence of a new work-in-progress.
Don’t get too excited. This week’s tally verges on the infinitesimal; just two pages of plot outline and 500 first draft words, the opening paragraphs. I know I should be aiming for 3,000+ words a day, and I will, once I dig-in. But after months of literary inertia even a beginning as modest as this, is significant.
It means the key is back in the ignition and my foot is twitching over the gas pedal.