I was talking to a friend of mine the other day, and we were catching up on how things were going. We don’t get to see or talk to each other that often, so our conversations cover what has occurred over the last three to six months, depending how long it has been since our last communication. He asked me how my writing was going. I gave him an ‘okay.’ His follow up question was one that’s starting to haunt me, “So, where’s the effin’ book, already?” (I substitute effin’ for the real word he used for the kiddos, a little trick I learned from J.K. Rowling. I know some of my friends are rather crass, but that’s why they’re my friends.)
I told him like I’ll tell you now… I’m stuck. I have tried everything that I know to break this case of WB (not going to say those words), but I have to admit it. In the past I’ve used this blog to break-up the monotony of writing the novel. Writing about subjects that have nothing to do with Kylee Morgan and her friends seemed to get my fingers moving then, they just kept on moving when I returned to the book and I was able to knock out a few pages.
Then, “The Epiphany” hit. (To learn more about “The Epiphany” you’ll have to go back a few posts, and no, I’m not going to put a link to it here because I want you to have to find it… plus, I don’t have time. I got to go to work in a bit and I’m trying to get this done before then.) I realized that most of the work I had completed to that point was all for naught. My 500-600 page novel was going to have to be broken down into a more manageable form. The agent I talked to thought this was a great observation on my part, and wanted the first few chapters of the new book when I got them completed. Yay for me!
That was four months ago. I can not even get three or four complete chapters of this book done. I returned to the blog to get my fingers moving, but that didn’t help. Then, my wife and I went on vacation and that helped for a bit, but a few weeks later I was back to staring at the keyboard and cursing the muse for her insolence. I even started writing poetry, and although I’m enjoying that, it wasn’t moving my fingers, either. Finally, I said eff it (again, my friends are crass, I’m crass, you know what I really said), and I began a new book that the muse had given me and left Kylee and her friends on La Jolla Beach where they belong.
On my birthday, however, the muse quit being so lazy about Kylee, and let me in on a little secret about that book… I hate everything I’ve written in Kylee’s book! That was the reason I haven’t been able to write that book. I hate it! So, with that news, and some help from my psychology teacher (ideas, not counselling), I took a drastic step. I chucked everything I have written in the Kylee series in the digital trash can. Which, in reality, means it is stuck in a zip file (I’m not dumb. That was way to much work to totally dispose of.) and I’m starting fresh. I now have two novels going and a goal to be under contract by my 36th birthday. As my wife told me for some refreshing inspiration, “Julia Child took her first cooking class at 37.” At least I can count on someone around here for inspiration… Effin’ muse!