On the Book

I’ve been completely slack in posting of late, focussing what small sparks of energy I have on finishing my second manuscript, Blood of Heirs. 

Me, after typing The End on ‘Blood of Heirs’

 It took just over 12 months, consists of a little over 116,000 words and 40 something chapters, and was rudely interrupted by abdominal surgery and a joint fusion in my right hand, but it finally came together. My most beloved beta-reader, Rebecca (Bec),  told me in no uncertain terms, the ending made her cry and this made some dark, morbid part of me very happy. 

Sending it to her and waiting for feedback was possibly the single most excruciating emotional time in recent memory. It was surprisingly worse than sending my first manuscript to be assessed (twice) and then to an interested party for their thoughts. Something in me knew, after a year of working together with these characters, that if I didn’t get the ending right for Bec, it was never going to be right for any other reader. The emotional investment was crucial, the drip-feed of information and the peeling back of layers to reveal the plot at the right time – I had to get it all perfect and set off the desired reaction or else it was all for nought. 

The manuscript is with the interested party now, and a weight has certainly lifted from my shoulders. I’ve done everything I can to make it the best draft, the cleanest version possible without professional input. Hopefully, they are convinced of its potential. Time will tell. 

Daunting as waiting on their feedback is, I’m overwhelmed by the idea of starting the next project. I have a story to tell, for certain, but the pulsing cursor on the blank page is haunting me. I’ve got time – there’s no rush. I have piles of notes and plots to weave together and eventually it will appear from my head and wriggle up my fingers to the keys, like all my stories do in their own good time. 

Meanwhile, I have a house to move into. We’ve finally, after 11 years of living in mining houses, purchased a family home. Our son calls it ‘the new house’, though he isn’t yet convinced that he likes it. I suspect he thinks it lacks his toys, and therefore any appeal at all. If it weren’t for the packing, sorting and unpacking, I’d probably be more excited too! The truck comes for the furniture tomorrow, and in 24 hours I’ll be cooking in a new kitchen and learning the personality of a new oven. Oh, the joys!

I have also set up a Facebook profile under my pen name, if you’d like to follow my writing related adventures. 

For now it’s back to packing, setting up my new writing room and book cases and trying not to think too much on the future of a certain ‘book’. 




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