Like being left by a lover
Finishing a book is like being left by a lover. Of course, that's where the metaphor falls flat on its ass. You never enter a relationship with the aim to finish it. Or get paid for handing your lover over afterwards.
If anything, writing a book is like traveling. Discovery. Unexpected chaos. And then leaving, feeling like a part of you has been left behind (and not just the toe nails and hair and skin flakes).
Sometimes, finishing a book feels like that old superstition. That you "lose" part of your soul when you get photographed. Writing is forming emotional energy. You have to get the stuff from somewhere. You have to be passionate enough about it to keep it going for anything between six weeks to two years. Then release it. The relief that comes with the release - is also a loss. Your hands are empty. You lose purpose. You don't come home thinking "I Need To Get This Scene Written!" - you come home to laundry and dirty dishes and a carpet that needs hovering. You begin to notice dust specks. Begin to actually see that the garden is overgrown.
You update your blog twice in one day.
I know I'm a workaholic. That trait serves me really well, actually. I do get a lot of shit done, especially in writing. I just wrote a - pretty good - novel in less than three months. Whoot! I must be doing something right.
Finishing the novel - the act of racing towards the ending, knowing it's maybe just 5-10 pages now, is glorious. By that point you know whether it's any good. The quick edit after that is already anti-climactic. You have no idea if it's any good, but you begin to see all the stuff that has piled up in the meantime.
Not writing is misery. At least I know this time there are more novels (it's far worse if there are no others lined up - I've gone through the "oh noes, I'll never write anything like this every again! WOES IS MEHHH!" phase so often that it's become something of a running joke).
I know I should be unpacking my bags and sleep and sort through the photos and memories, but I really cannot wait to be travelling again.
If anything, writing a book is like traveling. Discovery. Unexpected chaos. And then leaving, feeling like a part of you has been left behind (and not just the toe nails and hair and skin flakes).
Sometimes, finishing a book feels like that old superstition. That you "lose" part of your soul when you get photographed. Writing is forming emotional energy. You have to get the stuff from somewhere. You have to be passionate enough about it to keep it going for anything between six weeks to two years. Then release it. The relief that comes with the release - is also a loss. Your hands are empty. You lose purpose. You don't come home thinking "I Need To Get This Scene Written!" - you come home to laundry and dirty dishes and a carpet that needs hovering. You begin to notice dust specks. Begin to actually see that the garden is overgrown.
You update your blog twice in one day.
I know I'm a workaholic. That trait serves me really well, actually. I do get a lot of shit done, especially in writing. I just wrote a - pretty good - novel in less than three months. Whoot! I must be doing something right.
Finishing the novel - the act of racing towards the ending, knowing it's maybe just 5-10 pages now, is glorious. By that point you know whether it's any good. The quick edit after that is already anti-climactic. You have no idea if it's any good, but you begin to see all the stuff that has piled up in the meantime.
Not writing is misery. At least I know this time there are more novels (it's far worse if there are no others lined up - I've gone through the "oh noes, I'll never write anything like this every again! WOES IS MEHHH!" phase so often that it's become something of a running joke).
I know I should be unpacking my bags and sleep and sort through the photos and memories, but I really cannot wait to be travelling again.
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Casey - I think she might be right. :) I want to get better with every novel, though, so that's a good sign.
I think this is called "postpartum depression"..*grin*
Sara - I think that's a very good word for it. Not that there's any way I could ever compare those, but I assume it's far worse when it's actually physical.
I suppose. Although technically it's still giving birth to a part of you. With less screams.
I hope.
Uhmgk. This giving birth business is seriously gross. I prefer the paper version. :)
OMG. Book babies.
The best part is that after they're born, they require no further care and feeding. You just put their pictures up on the mantel and brag about them. Win-win.
The best part is that after they're born, they require no further care and feeding. You just put their pictures up on the mantel and brag about them. Win-win.
And they start earning money very soon after they are done. No "mum/dad, I need this" or crashing of your car or something.
Heh. He was so romantic, with his metaphor of the lover who was leaving, and then I came here...:)
True, Sara. No one gets to stay mushy and sentimental with such determined realists running around the place. Good job!
Letters from the Front
Aleksandr Voinov's blog on reading and writing.
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It's better than that Aleks, don't sell yourself short.
Kate said it could be your best yet and she's read all your stuff so we trust her judgement on it until we can get our hands on it ourselves.
Lets hope its less like losing a lover and more like gaining an old friend :)