I only have 863 more blog posts to read! That's what I get for taking two weeks holiday from the blogosphere--two weeks that turned into four or six. I've lost count.
While I've missed you all and the wonderful anecdotes, inspiring stories of writing success, and commiseration among us poor unpublished sods, it has been hugely revitalizing to get away from it all. I feel like I've been living in a cabin in the Rocky Mountains with Old Ben (my cat has a bear-sized temper sometimes), snuggled beneath a blanket with my adorable husband, leaving the cruel world outside and forgotten (except for those zillion calls from telemarketers trying to convince me to change my power company. They even trekked into the deep woods and knocked on my door. The nerve!). It's difficult to emerge from such safe hibernation, but I'm in danger of becoming a hermit, so here I am.
I finished a massive re-write of 80,000 words, and now I'm 15,000 words into the second half...or the second book. I really haven't figured out where to divide my epic fantasy yet. I want to get it all down and futz with that sort of thing later. For now, I'm all about characters, story, and craft. Everything I write is fantastic or horrible, depending on which day you ask. I have glimpsed brilliance, but it's not all there yet. I'm working on it. No time to talk. I must write! Going back to my cave now...
I've been writing all my life (even won a trophy in first grade) but it got shoved to the back of the closet (writing as a priority as well as my trophy) because I was too "levelheaded" for that nonsense. Now, twenty years later, I've learned a flat head isn't all it's cracked up to be. Writing is the one thing I felt I had to do, and I always told myself I'd write a book someday. Well, it IS someday.