In my head is a war. It’s part perfection, part creativity. One segment of my mind is screaming that I need to get the iliri series completed, out, and available to readers. I’ve already written it, so I need to complete all the polish and shine that these books deserve.
The other part of my mind is wandering through my library. Oh, there’s that book about the world after global warming. Right, then there’s the one about the gamers. Oh hey, what about that romance that you’ve almost finished? You could just sit down and smack out the last couple of chapters since you’ve already planned it all. Wait, what about the urban fantasy, the steampunk book, or maybe the sci-fi colony thing?
And KABAM! I’m staring at the screen, flipping through twitter, and obsessed with my sales – all while doing NOTHING about my writing. Grr.
I’ve reached that point in authorship where the demands of producing books are equal to that of writing them (marketing/promotions vs clicking of keys). Free time is at an all time low, readers are at an all time high, success is “in sight” (depending upon how one defines that) and I’m comfortably happy with my foray into this field. I actually LIKE being an author. I like it so much that my brain just wanders off to some remote island and wallows in the warmth of it, laying around like some beached whale…
… and completely stumped as to what comes next! I have a list of things to do. Like how I should be nicer to my editor (but seriously! She said the comma doesn’t belong there. Is she blind or daft?!?) or maybe working on the cover for book 3. How about deciding on a friggin title for that book? Never mind that I shouldn’t be blogging about my writing. This space should be something entertaining and wonderful for my fans.
Instead, I’m wallowing in the joys of being an author. I’m gonna take a moment and just let this happen. I think a day will do. Maybe plant a flower, while reminding myself that I’ve done it. I’m an author. I made stories that other people – people I don’t even know – like enough to tell me about. I made something, and it’s kinda good.
Yes. I did this.
Wait. Wasn’t I supposed to be focusing? Hmm. I think I’ll go do that in the sun. Maybe with a good book. I think Instinctual needs another read through, and then I can call it “working”. Now why didn’t I do this before?