Starting to write a new book is easy for one reason
Starting to write a new book. Ah. It’s equivalent to starting to read a new book. Fresh pages. The lure of excitement, of unknown adventures.
The courtship between you and the main characters (good or evil). The blush of starting new.
The number one reason to start a new book is the excitement. A writer can do anything. Take the story anywhere. Introduce amazing characters. Kill the bad guy. Break rules. A world of opportunity awaits.
Secondly, we get to finally write “that” book. You know the one. The idea hit us in the shower, or as we woke from a dream, or as we drove to work. The idea that grabbed hold and wouldn’t let go, that kept us up at night, ostracized our families and sent us leaping across the room for pen and paper to write down an amazing plot twist. New books are seductive and impatient. They are sparkly and threaten to leave unless captured.
Don’t believe any writer who drones on about his or her “muse”. There is no such creature. Everything that happens in a book comes solely from the writer’s imagination. Grumpy, fairy godmother-like muses do not sprinkle fairy dust on a laptop and produce a polished manuscript. They don’t cripple the writer’s hands, or stunt his brain. If a writer can’t write, it’s his fault, no one else’s.
Starting to write a new book is hard for one reason
I’ve recently started writing a new book, and it’s sent me into uncharted territory. Brilliant Wreckage lives up to its title. It is outside my usual genre. I write fantasy and paranormal stories. Elves. Fairy godmothers. Witches. Aliens.
Brilliant Wreckage centers around an ordinary woman in an extraordinary time—WWII. She’s caught in its web. Worries about the safety of her fiance fill her days and nights. On the home front, she fights many battles.
On top of everything else, Annie sees visions.
Can she keep her sanity while the world around her crumbles?
Yesterday, I wrote dreck.
Annie got up, had breakfast, went into the garden to plant potatoes. Boring, boring, boring. Where’s the car crashes, the fiery escape from death? I can only keep my faith in the theory that first drafts are shitty, and I’ll find better words when I start to edit.
What my main character is blessed with
Annie Faraday loves, and is loved in return by an amazing man who writes her poetry in his letters home from the Pacific Theater during World War II. He supports her and her dream of becoming a nurse and midwife. He listens to her doubts and fears. Jimmy is her guiding star.
What my main character fears the most
Annie fears many things. The dissolution of her family as her father slides into alcoholism. The fear her younger brother will persuade their father to sign off on letting him join the Navy. Her future father-in-law, who looks down on her because she pursues a medical career. Oh, and she’s not good enough for his son. But the number one thing Annie fears is the war. Jimmy’s at Iwo Jima, and though he’s not one of the thankless men who stormed its shores, he faces death daily from kamikaze pilots, bombs and anything else that could go wrong.
Will he make it home to her? I know the answer, and it’s not an easy one. I walk a fine line in crafting this story. Annie’s doubts mirror my own. As I said, I’ve never written this type of story before. It’s tricky. I guess I’ll have to borrow some of her faith during the next few weeks.
New book launch announcement next Monday
Please return here next Monday for an important announcement regarding the release of Book #2 in the Enchanted series, Red Riding Hood and the Lone Wolf.
I’ll have an excerpt for you to read and a question you can help me answer.
(Purchase Book #1, Snow White and the Eighth Dwarf here)
Blessings to you!
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