The Happy Isles

I’m really jonesing for my next puzzle, The Happy Isle by Magic Puzzles, but I promised myself I wouldn’t start on it until I’m at least 50% through my second pass over my latest WIP. I’m at 45%, so palm trees and aggravating straight edge pieces are definitely on the horizon. 

Besides denying myself the joy of a jigsaw puzzle, another thing I do to try and get myself over the hump of procrastination is allow myself to play a round of PVP on Guild Wars 2 in between 10 minute sessions of editing. I’ll probably draw out the sessions to 15 minutes. I feel like PVP is getting more screen time than Miss Fitz at this point, and that’s really not fair.

It’s not like I don’t want to do the work. I actually really am enjoying the story, the characters, and the process. There is just something hard-wired in me that fights that actual process. Are all writers like this? I think at some point we all are. The fun part of having the idea is like the sex before the baby. Nine long months of labor and 18+ of raising the kid, and you’re like, why did I do this? Oh, yeah.

I fear I have just outed myself as a horrible mother.

There are authors who barrel through the work like a blur. I am not one of them. I’m not going to try to be. I’m pretty happy with my work, but I totally appreciate my superfast friends. They are super cool and I look to their example when I ask myself if I am denying myself the pleasure of writing/editing, or what. Because sometimes I am, and that’s just self-flagellation, isn’t it? It’s okay to not work on a lousy $9/hour project if I’ve got the energy to write, right? And then I do it. Because I can. Sometimes I have to remind myself that other authors are allowed to write, and so am I. We are all allowed to write. It’s not a crime. It’s not a sin.

This particular WIP was possibly my fastest first draft, taking about six or seven weeks from start to finish, and although I always feel like I put a lot of myself into my stories, this one feels like it’s right out of my present life as a mom of four, unlike any other novel I’ve written. So, is that good? Sure. It’s something I’ve struggled for years to try to understand how to do, and I have to thank Emma Jameson specifically for not only encouraging me to write about my life, but also to dabble with fictionalizing it. 

I don’t want to jinx myself because I’m only working through a draft–it’s not like it’s out for sale and getting rave reviews just yet. But I do feel good about it.

So I suppose that is my long-winded way of saying, I have learned that even when I really love what I’m working on, I will still have days when I would rather clean the air filters and the dog’s ears than sit down for 15 minutes and edit my own work.

And to be honest, I have always loved what I’m working on, even when it was really, REALLY awful (and I knew it was awful, and it was meant to be awful). I suppose I’m just accepting that this is me. I have to bribe and trick myself sometimes, but maybe I love that. Maybe I wouldn’t trade that for the world.