The Spring semester has drawn to a close with yesterday's glorious Commencement Day. I'm so happy for all of the graduates. I should be gleefully indulging in all things summer-ish and lovely, as I hope you are. And you probably don't want to read about someone fretting.
But that's what I've been doing, I'll admit it: I've been fretting about my new work-in-progress.
This may be depressing for the writers out there to hear, but insecurities about your writing do not vanish the moment you've signed your first publishing contract. At least they didn't for me. I had a prolonged bout with writer's block when I was trying to find out what I would write after The King's Rose. This current project was the thing that pulled me out of it. I put every image or idea that inspired me as a kid (and still does, even now) on the page and tried to write the story I would have wanted to read at age 13... And now I'm really hoping that it will work, that it will actually become a book.
But what if it doesn't? Does that make the writing of it any less important? Isn't the craft of writing itself worthwhile, even without a contract? Of course it is - yes, of course it is! But I suppose I've become addicted to the validation of publication. Never mind that, but just the ability to get my work out there and for people to READ it. That's the fun (though scary, too, at times) of getting published.
However, fretting will get me nowhere. I have tea to drink and grapes to eat and books to read, to distract me from my worries. I loved The Hunger Games, and now I'm reading The Red Queen's Daughter by Jacqueline Kolosov (a late addition to my reading list) which I'm really enjoying. Elements of the story call to mind Wise Child by Monica Furlong - the story of a neglected girl taken in by a witch and taught all of her wonderful witchy ways - which was so beautifully written.
I'll keep you posted on the reading list...and the writing, once I get back to it.
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