I learned that a writer (or at least me) cannot survive in edit mode alone for very long.
For the past nine months or longer (I seem to have lost track), all I’ve been doing is reading and editing then re-reading and doing more editing. It’s been draining and a little bit depressing. It’s been easy to get down on myself, thinking maybe I don’t have what it takes to be a writer. I started second guessing what I wrote. Wondering about character development, world building, and pacing. Have I done any of it well or is just okay. All of my insecurities have come rushing to the surface.
So last week I put book one aside and went full force into a couple of new projects. It was amazing, almost thrilling. I was back in the creative side of writing. Where you’re flushing out the story and just putting words to paper without thinking about commas and semi-colons. I wrote 5000 words for the second book in my series and 2000 on another project. Now a lot of it may be crap and I’ll have to spend months re-writing but it was nice to remember why I wanted to be a writer in the first place.
To tell stories.