Before taking a break from writing to stretch my legs this afternoon, I return my laptop to the car. I walk away with the uneasy feeling that I'm leaving a child in the backseat; the sole copy of my most recent draft of Invisibles is on my laptop. I keep scanning for anyone who might have seen me drop it off. Keep the MacBook, I imagine shouting, just leave me my story!
I am working on the second draft, vastly different from the first draft I wrote a year ago for NaNoWriMo. This subsequent version of the story has taken a different direction than the hastily written first attempt. It took me almost a year to get back into it. For the first six months, I had focussed solely on getting Being Human published and promoted. This has got to be the hardest part about indie publishing! I got to the point that it had been such a long time since I even looked at Invisibles that I was a little scared to open the file, kind of like the feeling you get when you first pick up the phone after neglecting a friend or family member for a longer-than-necessary period of time.
So I opened up that sucker and . . . got stuck.
It wasn't what I wanted. I wasn't happy and I was frozen with inaction (as I tend to get), unsure of how to proceed. It needed major surgery.
So I consulted some experts (writers=surgeons of words) who helped guide me back on track. And here I am, two months later, still going strong. On a good week I work on Invisibles 3 or 4 times. On a bad week only twice; so even my bad weeks are pretty awesome! It helps that my youngest son was cast in a play that holds 3-hour rehearsals twice a week. Kablam! -- I like that word; It's comic book-ish -- instant writing time!
And my baby is back. I think about it when it's not around. I worry about how it's doing. I dream about it. I question whether I'm giving it enough time, energy, love. It exhausts me, worries me, makes me wonder what it'll be like in the future.
And one day, I'll reluctantly send it out into the world, hoping that I've done enough for it.