Blocked

For whatever reason, I just can’t bring myself to connect with anything I’m writing. I want to write, I have the desire, but it all just feels so… bleh. I don’t really know why. I hit ten thousand words and it all just feels forced after that. I lose steam. I don’t have a clear plan. I think part of the problem is that I have sent out When He Returns, and feel so strongly that it is worth a read. I think it has the potential to really find an audience.

But even with it, I feel so anxious to send it out. I’ve poured over it, I’ve had at least a dozen beta readers tell me it is truly good, but even still it’s so hard for me to send it out. I’ve sent it to twenty agents and have received nine rejections. It’s not a great feeling…

At the same time, I want to send it out to everyone on Earth. It’s epic, it has characters that I adore, it has scope and family and dynamics and badass fight scenes and humor, it truly is probably the best thing I have ever written.

That’s part of the problem. If I send it out, and it dies on the vine, what does that say? That my best isn’t good enough? That what I think is amazing is either not, or at best, isn’t what the industry wants?

Everything else I write feels like so much less than WHR. No idea has the same scale or scope. No idea even really comes close. I WANT so badly to write epic, sweeping fantasy with huge set pieces with dire consequences and impossible choices, with quite strength that explodes outwards under pressure, and boisterous words that are a mask that covers fear. WHR has that, and part of me is worried that right now, that’s the best I have and it’s going to take me a long to time do better than that.

I’m in my head about it. I know that. I want so badly for people to read what I write and connect with these worlds and people that exist in my head. I’m not unique in that desire, obviously. But I want it so much. I don’t want money. I don’t want fame. I want to share what’s in my head. I want people to say things like, Wow I really connected with Anabel, or Marlow, or hell, even Civilla.

There are no answers here. Maybe this is the beginning, and someday I will look back and be suprised with how things worked out. The future is uncertain, as it always is. One thing is for sure though. I love what I do. I love writing, and even if it isn’t flowing like water, I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

To anyone reading this. To friends and family that have supported me and given me feedback. Thank you. It’s why I write, to hear what you think. That’s where the joy is.