So, I've come to the conclusion that writing is very similar to having children.It all starts with the idea, the conception. There there is the joy of creating this world and these lives for which you are the sole caretaker. You spend months, even years, perfecting and nurturing your creation to ensure that everything happens the way it should. All loose ends are tied, you've done the spit bath just before you send your "baby" out into the world. It is the greatest to joy to finally see your "human" child come into the world or finally completing your novel.
But here is the problem I'm running into.
The sequel. The second born.
While I'm not currently pregnant, I do have an imagination, so just indulge me here. With the first, everything is new and exciting and you wonder where this adventure is going to take you (applies both to babies and books). But the second should be easy, right? Been there, done that, sorta thing. But it appears to be more complicated than that. You really must treat them like separate individuals. While the two are similar, you have to find what makes the second tick.
As I'm currently 8 chapters deep in my sequel, I found that the energy is different. My characters have grown up and changed and I'm struggling to get to know them. I have a game plan for this book (as I had a general idea for the first), but it feels weird writing this time around. It could have something to do with my diminished writing day ( I get 2-3 hours some days, when I used to write 8+ hours daily), or perhaps Ariel has stolen a bit of my creativity (she could have stolen my IQ, so I should be thankful). For some reason I'm only able to write 7 pages within 4 weeks. That's pretty sad if you're me. I was writing 10-20 a day! It seems that when I get to 7 pages, my muse leaves the building and my brain shuts down. Totally weird and super depressing.
"Liquid Light"and I have to find some common ground if it ever hopes to join its sibling in the literary world.
2 comments:
These things happen (or so I hear). Try not to worry about it too much and I'm certain that your muse will return with a vengeance. Who knows maybe you'll even find something or someone else to inspire you.
Oh, girl. I could write a book about my fickle muse. I stayed up til 3:30 AM last night writing... I can't seem to find (or make) time to write during the day. I am coming to the conclusion that paying my dues as a writer means I may not be able to sleep for a year. Or two. But I can sleep when I'm dead right? I've got one in my head right now, beginning to end... all I need is time... and to procrastinate less. Somehow 'I'm going to write' turns in to three hours of bejeweled. Hmm. Discipline problems. That's me.
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