So one day you decide to write and write you do. You write morning, noon and night. Your try to fit in a semblance of a real life, work, family, friends, basic healthcare, maybe too little fitness, and you write a damn book.
For me, the first time around, writing Circling, most of the energy felt like adrenaline. It was probably a nice boost of endorphins. Forget the runner’s high, try the writer’s high! I would get up after hours motionless, except fingers on a keyboard, panting from expended energy. But it was all mental and unsustainable.
Eventually, by the later drafts of Circling, my physiological response to writing normalized, and it scared me. The energy was crazy, but it was magical too. What if the magic deserted me and I went back to being just plain me. I like writer me much more than other me.
So on June 2, 2014, I started my second attempt at writing. Forever Falling picks up a few months after Circling ends. The story travels west with Anna’s brother Callum. Writing was a bit more staid. It was slow to start and my fingers danced much less aggressively across the keyboard. But it kept coming. The questions kept getting asked and answered and the voices kept talking. It took about three and a half months for a very respectable first draft, but it happened.
I typed the magic words today. With Circling I didn’t type them until draft four. Forever Falling is a much cleaner first draft. POV and narrative inexperience plagued me the first time around. Not this time, lessons learned.
Tonight I’ll celebrate with a bourbon and a steak. To me this combination tastes of pure satisfaction.
Over the next few weeks I’ll be working with an editor to put the finishing polish on Circling. I have decided to leave the traditional world of publishing behind. I’d much rather be the pilot of my own destiny. My goal is to have it in the hands of all the world in December.
Raise a glass with me, if you will, tonight. Toast every beginning and every ending. And may every ending lead to a new beginning.