Ever since I started my writing career, I have adamantly subscribed to the notion that I am above having writer’s block. Not because I am better than any other writer out there, or do things differently so as not to be affected by it. I just don’t. So when I finished my last book, I did what I always do – take a break for a couple of weeks, then prepare myself for the next book. I reread the outline, go through what’s written, add in details I know will be in the book, start preparing a cover if there’s an idea burning in my mind, start jotting plotting the first chapter – I get ready. Then I start writing.
Well, I did all that. I wrote the first chapter. And got ready for the second one, wasn’t quite feeling it. So I reread it and didn’t like it and rewrote it and didn’t like it again and rewrote and took some time off and reread what I wrote and didn’t like it and quit trying to write it and did other stuff and went back to the first chapter and scrapped everything and wrote it once again and didn’t like it when I read and finally quit trying to write it.
I always thought writer’s block was not being able to come up with something to write. Apparently, it’s also writing, but not getting anywhere.
I finally gave up on that book. I still intend to write it and I believe I may have decided on a starting point, but it’s not my focus right now. Instead, I went back to a story I started years ago. I reread it and decided to keep going. It’s been hit and miss, rife with rewrites and blocks, but I can happily say I’ve completed the first draft. I’ve got some reading and some editing to do before I send it to my editor, but I can happily say I am done with my next book and anticipate releasing it.
So that’s what happened. What’s the name of my next book? What’s it about? Stay tuned. I’ll share it this weekend! Until then, keep reading!