A while ago, I posted about my current writing projects. Among them, I mentioned the book series I’ve been working on for the past eight or so years (outlining and planning the series, first book is nearly done). It’s been a slow moving process between school and work—and stopping and starting and stopping again to work on other writing projects when the book just wasn’t working. That happened recently, before this summer, and I had been working solely on the sci-fi book I had started writing.
The series is about a fantasy world with people who have extraordinary abilities (a cross between X-Men and the Chronicles of Narnia) and a young girl, who’s from there, in our world. There’s a superhero element throughout, sort of like it’s an elaborate origin story. In our world, there are others from the other world with abilities, and that bring the story forward from the beginning.
Because I’ve been writing the first book off and on since high school, it’s been difficult. My writing skills improve more and more as time goes on, so having to fix things that had been written when I was seventeen is challenging. I’ve rewritten, revised, destroyed, rebuilt, smashed—all the things I could possibly do to a book over several years (when I have time to actually do it). And about 9 months ago, I realized that it just wasn’t working. So I decided to shelve the project and move on.
I returned to the science fiction book I’d been working on off and on, too. And, of course, while I was working on it, I realized what had been missing from the other project. It all clicked together and I rewrote and restructured the entire first third of the book. Since then, I’ve been struggling to make time to continue with any writing projects, but I’ll hopefully have more time once this semester is over and I’m done with school completely in January.
I just posted how I’d shelved my old project for something new and now I’m kind of going backward, shelving the new project (temporarily) and going back to the old. I’ve come to the realization that being published so young and rushing to get something finished by a ridiculous deadline I made for myself has just caused stress and took the fun and love out of it. I still take it seriously, I just now understand that I have other priorities that need my attention—mainly, things that will make me enough money to, you know, live. I still want to be a published author, but I know that it won’t happen right now. I have a lot of time. I’ll get there eventually.