How many days between posts lately? I don’t check, I don’t want to know. Time is standing still for me, yet when I look it has kept moving…
I have been thinking about a post for some days now – since I began blogging it is funny how much of life can be turned into a post, yet my thoughts are scattered. The holidays are coming, and I am thinking back to Tricia’s post asking what we have sacrificed by being a writer. At the time I had a difficult time coming up with an answer. Now, I see one: the ability to share.
So many other art forms can be appreciated at a glance. I cannot offer my art as a gift, and so I knit. I think to myself that next year I will be illustrating and will be able to offer at least the children in my life something more personal and from the heart. (Even though I am certain they will prefer Lego!)
I have a self-imposed a deadline for myself: finish the first draft of my wip by dec 18th. Possible? I thought so until my daughter came down with something and has been sucking time. Yet, still I think I can make it. I have just under 72 k done. I want to write about 80 k. That means about 8 writing sessions in the next 10 days. The problem I realize is that I don’t want to finish. I sit down to write, and think, I am already here? I don’t want to be here, writing an ending. Of course, I will probable be re-writing for another 2 years, so it is no true end (I say this as a joke, but if my first novel is an indicator then I am in for 2 years easy!).
Do you ever think you read too quickly? Coming to too many endings too soon? Lately, that is how I feel. I write, and I know the world will only be entered so briefly. I read and I think of how much energy and love was pored into a book that I devour in a matter of hours. I cannot help it. I know the author has done a good job, and I think I should slow down and enjoy it, like how I savor a good piece of dark chocolate. This is how I feel about my wip. I do not want to leave it behind. I do not want to exit that world, and say goodbye to those characters.
My fear is that I will overwrite, prolong the inevitable, and so I write in a way I am unaccustomed to, and that is with precision. I do not let myself be taken by the flow. This time I am guiding the current where I know it should go.