No question about it, coronavirus has left me feeling like this is my writing career…
Way back in January, I had hopes of publishing my first novel in time for the summer reading season. Even before the pandemic-shutdown-of-everything in March, I was behind on that schedule and struggling with editing The Compass Code, for various reasons. After the pandemic-shutdown, it felt like everything came to a screeching halt and was suspended in uncertainty. Including my ability to focus and create.
After a few months, I was ready to give up on the train wreck. Ready to take the easy way out…
I stopped thinking about it. Stopped thinking about characters and plot lines, back stories and threads that need tying up. Mostly. Well, I mean, I tried, anyway. But these people I created and have spent so much time playing make believe with just won’t go quietly away into oblivion.
I could burn the papers that hold the words that are their lives, but that won’t sear them, or their stories, from my mind. I made them, I’m stuck with them. At least until I can unleash them all on you, dear readers.
So, over the past few days, the irresistible urge has finally boiled over and I’ve sat back down with my laptop and my notebooks and all the words I’ve been neglecting. I can no longer evade the work using the excuse that I’m just doing my best to get through this pandemic-shutdown-of-everything.
It’s nearly August. COVID-19 cases are on the rise again and it looks increasingly unlikely schools will reopen in September. My life isn’t going back to the old normal anytime soon. I’ve got to adapt and carve out time from this hectic new normal in order get this train back on track.
There’s no question, it feels good to reunite with my imaginary friends.