It’s been a few months since I actively sat down and put in any work toward one of my (million? gazillion? It’s just getting ridiculous now) SNIs. But I have a good excuse! As you’re reading this, my house is being disassembled, things stuffed into boxes and packed into trucks, ready to be shipped to Spain.
But the thing is, that’s really not much of an excuse. Sure, it’s a big life change. One we went through a few years ago when we moved to Germany. If anything, this move should be easy peasy *knock on wood* thanks to my awesome I-moved-our-entire-house-to-another-country badge and the abundance of what I learned the first time around.
Yet I’m still a nervous mess.
And my stories remain untouched.
First chapters used to be beyond easy for me. With little (okay, no) preparation, I’d type out the entire first chapter an hour or so after the SNI struck. Of course I’d come back to adjust things later on, but I could barely name the characters before diving right in. That’s how excited I was. So what’s the hold up this time?
Much like starting over in a new country, starting a new book is both exciting and a little terrifying.
Learning a new language. Meeting new characters.
Surviving a drive through downtown on itty bitty streets. Navigating your way through a plot hole.
With all things in this writing world, there are the ups and downs. And in good fashion, I hit a bump in the road a little over a year ago. I like to think I’m not too much of a pessimist and that I handled the not-so-great moment of losing my agent with some strength and grace. Besides, other people have made it much farther in the publishing process only to have the rug swiped from beneath their feet. I knew it wouldn’t be the end of my writing journey.
So why the long pause before diving back in? Because for the first time, I realized how much work it took to get to where I’d been. Finished, polished manuscript in hand. Someone who’d believed in it. Writing is a labor of love. There’s no time clock and no guarantees. No promises and no sympathy. And dammit, it can just be scary.
But this twenty-something woman who’d never called anywhere else home had gladly stepped onto a plane for the very first time to move to Europe three years ago.
And it was exciting and terrifying.
So when the question came up, when she helped make the decision to move back home or to go somewhere new, she didn’t think twice.
And she’s not going to put off her new book a second longer.
Well, maybe a few seconds. There is that whole four days in a car thing about to happen . . .
What fears do you have about writing, and what do you do to quiet the nervous butterflies?