I’m still here!
The last month and a half I decided to take a break, partly because of travel and visiting family, but also partly because I’ve been hard at work on something else. Namely, Book 2 of The Guardian of Hope.
And I’m very excited to report that I finally have Book 2 rough drafted!!!
I still have another round of edits to do before I send it out to people for review, give it a final polish, and then send it off. However, it’s still exciting to see it finally drafted!
Since I published Book 1, I have struggled with my story up till the last few months. In all honesty, I published Book 1 with a lot of errors and things I wish I could go back and edit. I’m sure I’m not supposed to say that, but it’s true. I’m a perfectionist, so every time I pick up my Book 1, all I see are errors.
At least, up till a few months ago, when I started tracking my writing progress by hours and word count. What started off as just a way to see how I was doing turned into something that has motivated me beyond words. (Get it?)
I never stopped loving my story, but I did stop liking it for a long time. I was furious that it wasn’t right, it wasn’t perfect, and I wanted it to be so much more than it was. There were months were I literally felt guilty for what I had produced, because it wasn’t as good as it could have been.
But that’s ridiculous. Of course I notice things now that I never did before – that was years ago. And of course I’m a better writer now. I’ve always known I’m going to get better each year, and in another few years I’ll know more about writing and publishing than I do right now. It can’t be helped, and that’s okay. I’ve learned from my mistakes, and it’s time to move on.
Once I finally “forgave” myself for my poorly-written Book 1 (or rather, I told myself to move on, I suppose is more accurate), I actually reread my story. And I focused on the story, not the writing. And I remembered why I liked my story, and I fell in love with it once again.
I still struggle sometimes with accepting that anything I produce will have stuff I want to change about it even the day after I publish it. I will never be truly satisfied. Maybe when I write a novel thirty or forty years from now, I will look at it and feel that it says exactly what I want it to say, has no errors, and be happy with it. But I doubt it.
So I have forgiven myself for being human. And I have returned to the love of my story, and enjoy it now more than I did when I started.