Tuesday, March 28, 2017

I recently began writing what will be a sequel to the book I am currently trying to get published. I had always assumed that the next part wouldn't come to mind until I had the solid knowledge that the first would be picked up, but like a lot of things, it had a mind of its own. So now I find myself waking in the morning and (stubbornly) falling asleep at night, once again caught in a whirlwind of images and dialogue. 

I can be sitting in my kitchen, having a cup of tea and minding my own business, when all of a sudden there were be a character's voice ringing out, demanding to be recorded, or a scene played out before my eyes as though on a mental reel. The only way I can really describe the process of writing these stories is to compare it to a field journalist following around a group of people, scrambling to record everything seen and heard as fast as possible before they wander off again. These stories are theirs, and I'm merely around as record keeper. 

It's been almost eight years since I first sat down to my computer and felt the beginnings of a story spark from my fingertips. I had just had my son and found myself finally being able to bridge the gap between imagination and expression. I'd always wanted to write, and did so here and there since I was eight years old, but never before had I been able to sit myself down and allow a world to unfold at the stroke of a key to this degree. 

The first story poured from me, and then, nothing. I wrote it, I got it out. Then I set it aside and life continued. Over the years I'd edit here and there, share it with beta readers, and gather what I could in terms of response and feedback. I'm one of those terribly odd people who absolutely thrives on constructive criticism and actively seeks out (genuine) critique so that I can spot areas in need of improvement and growth. It's the critique that opens discussion, encourages dialogue, and that's always been a significant part of why I love to write. I love to communicate and to explore different elements of thought and life, and a great source of this type of dimension is through varied perspective. 

So now I once again find myself sitting before the laptop, stumbling after the characters that have been a part of my life for nearly a decade. As this new part of the story will continue to manifest, I welcome the added color it shall bring to the long and exciting (if not outright daunting) process of venturing into the world of publishing. 

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