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I never thought I would write a book and I never dreamed I would do anything other than write weird poem's and short stories in spiral bound notebooks. i had almost ten books of journal entries that I didn't want others to see and I never thought I would be published in any capacity. My very first book was a hobby spawned by the typewriter I had gotten as a graduation gift. Dark Love, was my first attempt at real writing and it was horrible. Loved by myself and my best friend, it's better left as a memory.
Fifteen years later I was inspired to try again. I stole a character from my husband and ten years after that I had something that was actually good. I agonized over what to do with this book and many revisions later I was ready to let it go. I decided to self publish, a journey, in and of itself. I knew going in that It would be an uphill battle and I am OK with that. The Midnight Within has been out for a year now and I have since moved on to working on my second book, Midnight Rising. This time around I am forcing myself to not spend years writing it. I want this to be a series and I don't want to spend thirty or forty years on one tale. I have many more books in me that need to come out.
Of course I have drug my feet and gotten lost in social media instead of working on the book. Also being a mom and working has taken me away from the people that live inside my head. They are still there and being quite for now until inspiration strikes. In the meantime I have been working with my sister on the next cover in hopes that seeing it will get me back on track.
Writing truly is a learning experience and not as easy as people may think, especially if you are self published. It's a lot more work when you don't have a team of people to do things for you. So perhaps I should get back to work while my son is involved in one of his shows and the dog is not barking at everything. Don't think about the upcoming trip to the Minnesota Renaissance festival, or the new release of My Way, by Andy Black, or that Palaye Royale concert i want to see this fall. I have eaten and had my coffee. I have no excuses other than my own inability to focus on the task at hand.
So I leave you with a sigh and a wish that this thing would just write itself already. Where are the book fairies when i need them....Speaking of...What ever happened to Twig the fairy? and when did fairy's become so popular anyway? I hope you find your motivation as mine seems to have fled on the wings of those tiny flower loving little people. Oh the joys of being a writer who cant focus. Let me know what motivates you? and perhaps we can commiserate for a bit.