I’ve neglected this blog so much over the past year I don’t deserve any readers at all. Thank you for sticking with me.
It’s not just the blog. I’ve not been writing much at all. Not really. I’ve written my silly poems for The Funeverse and tried to keep up with critique in my SCBWI Ya Critique group ( I cannot tell you how much those people mean to me!) but writing in earnest…? Writing to show my agent I was still serious about my career…? No. Nothing. Nada.
There were lots of reasons. Principly my new business, Strawberry Fox; farm troubles likewise; even, thanks to my own vanity, volunteering to be the Finance Coordinator for SCBWI BI. But maybe, too, I was tired. I have been writing for a very long time with no commercial success. It’s hard to keep writing into a black hole. My agent helps, when I’m down she reminds me she loves my work and one day, some one else will too. My Crit group and Chichester SCBWI help, we’re all in the same boat, even the published ones are striving for the next deal, the next step and some would love to be in my position having a fantastic agent who loves what I do. Still, I kind of stopped, I even stopped writing this blog.
And slowly something stirred in the space between words. I’ve said this before but this time, this time, I lived it. A writer can never really stop. You may stop putting pen to paper, but your brain will never stop making up stories. When you think you’ve stopped, when you think you’ve nothing else to say, you are wrong. You are just making space in your brain for a shake down. You are airing your muscles. One day, you will start again, fresher, invigorated, excited.
Happily for me I realised this before this year’s SCBWI conference. I had written 3 chapters and a plan for a new book that I showed to an editor. Her enthusiasm for that unwritten script and something I asked Malorie Blackman to write in her new book for me, have pulled back the elastic and catapulted me forward.
I have written 30, 000 words of my new book in one of the busiest work months I have ever had. I’ve squashed them into early mornings and late nights. I’ve slipped them into tea breaks and waiting times. I’ve stolen them from housework.
I have half a book. It’s a poor half draft but it’s words on paper and it is flying from my fingers. If it never gets published I will still be glad I wrote it. I have no choice but to write – and if you are a writer, neither do you.
Have a great Christmas, I’ve got half an hour before my festive guests arrive, I should vacuum really but nah, I’ve just got to a good bit….
PS Thanks Malorie x