The first draft of the beasty book is done! I didn’t think I’d get there so soon, but the draft was shorter than I predicted. This is not a terrible thing, because I already know it will need heavy rewriting that will bump it up. The tone is wrong, it starts in the wrong place, and the genre needs flipping. Sometimes I don’t know what a book is about until I’m done it, and this is one of those times. There will be a lot of work ahead, but I know what that work needs to be done so it feels kind of exciting rather than daunting.
In the meantime, I need to ice my wrists and take a break. We’ll see how long that lasts, but I doubt it will be long. The writing part of my day is usually the only thing I get to do for myself. It’s not exactly therapy as much as it is a refuge from the world. When I don’t write, I feel restless, listless, and wrong. Maybe it’s just become so much a part of my daily routine that I feel lost without it. Do you ever feel that way?
Despite getting a lot of writing down, in all honesty, the house is a mess, I’m a mess, and I’m tired all the time. This is not at all unusual if you have a young child in the house, and likely all of our parents have been there and done that. People will tell you that parenting is hard, but its worth it. The truth is a little more complicated. Some days are wonderful, and other days the day job has you overloaded, the child is screaming, you’ve got cookie crumbs in your heels, stains on your clothes, there are meals (she’s just going to throw on the floor) to cook, you don’t remember the last time you showered, and you just want to run away from your life.
Maybe it’s just the darkening days that have me mulling the passing of time. Every night I lay in bed wondering how I got through the day and I try to make plans to feel a little more control and more like myself (writing helps, reading helps). But my life feels like groundhog day and I can’t seem to break free. Time keeps flying by and I feel like I’m just hanging on to that spinning wheel for dear life. I’m afraid I’m going to blink and a decade will have gone by.
People say kids grow up too fast, but maybe it’s just because there’s no slowing down until they’re grown. To my fellow parents of tiny demanding children, I salute you.
- Wintersong by S. Jae-Jones
- Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor
- The Mortal Instruments (Books 1-5) by Cassandra Clare
- Sorcerer of the Wildeeps by Kia Ashante Wilson