The devil is in the details and I’m his pet

The thing that takes me the longest in writing isn’t drafting, or revising, or plotting, or characterisation - it’s fighting my own urge to make everything mean something.

I’m filling in gaps in my world-building right now in preparation for book 2, part of which involves sussing out an accurate timeline of wider historical events and attaching years to them. It’s all well and good being able to say ‘This happened 200 years before that happened’ but when it comes down to specifics, god forbid I just choose a date and move on.

Song of the Stag takes place in the year 1441 of my world because the Battle of Bannockburn took place in 1314 and the Scottish independence referendum took place in 2014 and 1441 is the number 14 forwards and backwards. The legendary Queen Asha of Afren is crowned in the year 922 because 9 represents the end of a cycle and 2 represents balance, and I thought there ought to be two 2s.

No, but it gets worse. As of the beginning of Song of the Stag, the epoch for the calendar of the Talasaire (a magic-wielding community that lives in nature) happened 7,368 years ago. Why? Because firstly, 7 is a magic number. Secondly, the Groves that the Talasaire live in were based on the vibes of the Stonehenge Festival Campsite. And the first time I went to Stonehenge for the summer solstice was 21st (2+1=3) June (6) 2017 (1+7=8). Ergo, 7,368.

It makes NO sense. No one else knows or cares, but there’s a goblin inside me that simply must ascribe meaning to everything. So if you check on me in three months and I’m not any further forward with book 2, this is why.