When this blog was only a thought I wondered where I would get ideas for blog posts. Once I began blogging, I realized how literature was part of my daily life, and all I had to do was look into my thoughts. Having been away from writing and blogging the last two weeks, I feel like a person steeping back from a relationship.
My mind is occupied with thoughts of ‘after labor day’, when the kids will be in school and I will have a few hours a day to myself to write. I am looking forward to finally doing those two requested posts by Cathryn and Helen. I look forward to beginning to illustrate some of those kids books I’ve been playing with. I look forward to reading and critiquing. I look forward to blogging on a daily basis. (What a support group you all are! I would have never known before I began this blog!). I am even looking forward to beginning my querying process again.
But, there is one thing I do not look forward to, and that is coming to the end of my novel. Now, I tell myself that I am not done, by any means. All I will have completed in the next few weeks is the first draft! Yet, somehow, I know the story will have been told, and the refining process, while immensely gratifying, is not what I am longing.
The first novel I wrote, I did not have such anguish with. That story was all about the words for me. It was a complex story, but all I wanted to work on was the writing. With this novel, the writing doesn’t really matter. It is the immersion in the story that is wonderful. Going to that other place. Living with those other people.
When I think of the end of this novel, I also think of the next story that needs to be told. I am thinking that perhaps I will need to edit and begin a new story at the same time. Will they interfere with each other? Will the voices become blurred? Perhaps I just need to slow down, and assess when the time comes. For now, I will try not to think of the loss to come, and I will let the rest of the story continue to shape itself into a closure.