Dearest gold-flecked hearts, fellow lovers of morning light and birdsong news. What do they say, those birds, to the truest listeners? To the real audience desperate for Nature’s waning love, they say: Beware. Be real. Be mine. Keep listening.
I’ve been writing every morning.
The NOVEL I finished in the springtime is a fast-paced speculative fiction with elements of horror/scifi/paranormal featuring a half-Cherokee woman protagonist and narrator. The SECOND NOVEL, now underway, is written in a very different POV, it’s slower paced, and it features a telepathic protagonist, witches, paranormal serial killer, and a cop.
I bring up the SECOND NOVEL because research. Lots of research. Photo journalism, police procedural jargon, kitchen witchery, a system of spells & rituals, Irish lore, American crime history, etc., etc. What have I gotten myself into …
Before those final months of writing The NOVEL, I often complained about not being able to make ROUTINE happen. Discipline really never kicked in for me in any prior writing project until the revision stage. But, to my surprise, in those final months—February, March, and April 2019—butt in the seat daily became a thing. I racked up a seven day per week word count, I merged disparate notes and random scenes into prose, into story, and the thing I’d craved for years actually happened. I made a book. How about that?
Then I spent May and part of June madly editing/revising and researching how to query, the rest of June and July querying and whining about querying and getting started on The SECOND NOVEL. So, here we are. The day job is demanding way too much time and I’m tired, more than a little scatterbrained. Coffee isn’t helping much. And I need research. Buckets of it. Years of it.
I begin in earnest tomorrow. Maybe. That’s what I was telling myself as I opened the backdoor this morning for the dogs. I opened the door to a gorgeous symphony, birds cheering on the sunrise I couldn’t yet see. Their optimism caught me off guard. I sat there trying to puzzle out how and why so many creatures could simultaneously speak such hope and happiness before finally realizing I was being an idiot. Why didn’t I just listen? Let the optimism settle around, seep in?
Well, I did, eventually. Now my plans have changed a great deal. I’ve decided to enjoy the sounds of the day, bask in the light, rest while in motion. Good morning.
Tell me what to hope for, what to read, what you want. I will listen.