I mean to blog more. Really, I do. It’s near the end of summer and the scramble to get kids ready for school has reached a fever-pitch, and Gallow 3 is alternately eating my head and stubbornly refusing to move on alternate days.
Every book is different, every one takes a slightly different route through the process to the finish line. This one wants to sprint then rest, sprint then rest. It’s like fiction interval training. On the resting days, I’m attacked by that old familiar bugbear, the “Nobody will like this book, you suck, go back to office work or retail, everyone will hate this book AND you, then the sun will go out and we’ll all starve to death and it will be ALL YOUR FAULT.”
Yes, it’s irrational. I fully realize as much, and sometimes it’s that realization that gets me through. When it doesn’t, my natural (and well-exercised) stubbornness comes into play. There’s something to be said for finishing multiple books and feeling the same soul-crippling fear each time. The fear starts to become a friend, a sign that you’re heading in the right direction, a familiar presence. It doesn’t get any more comfortable, mind you, but familiarity blunts its teeth a bit.
So on days Gallow 3 wants to rest, I turn to the second Steelflower book, and bash at its beginning third, waiting for the long slog in the middle to hit so I know I’m getting somewhere. As soon as Gallow 3 makes up its mind and spikes for the finish, I’ll have room on my docket for the next project. Which is exciting.
But for right now, I sit down with the familiar fear, brew us both a cuppa, and get back to work.