It feels like a betrayal. My novel, Crucible of Faith, hasn’t seen much of me this past month. So what? Everyone deserves a break. It’s summer. I’m back home. I can have some time off.
But I’ve not been having time off. I’ve been seeing another novel.
I wish I could give you excuses, but I can’t. Lord knows I’ve tried telling them to myself enough time. Crucible is done, isn’t it? Well, 1st draft done. And 1/3 of the way through the 2nd draft. So, like, on the way. I mean 98,000 words is pretty impressive, isn’t it?
The truth is that a few weeks back another novel came along. I know right? Just “came along.” Novels don’t do that, do they? Well this one did. Forty eight hours and it was there, one solid-looking synopsis, agent query and character cards laid out. Ninety six hours, and I had the opening five pages. I know where it’s going. I know why I’m writing it.
Because it’s fun.
I don’t have time for fun. I’ve written many a post on this very blog about the importance of discipline, dedication, determination (less so, however, about the rule of three…). I’m a hypocrite. Oh sure, Crucible will come back. I’ll finish it. But as of right now, it’s on hiatus. How long will that last? Weeks, months? Years? I don’t know. Maybe this passionate fling will burn itself out by next week. Maybe I’m correct in thinking I’m enjoying working on this new project so much just because it’s so very far removed from the challenges I’ve faced on Crucible. Urban fantasy is very different from historical fiction, and I’m relishing the change of pace and style.
But it’s still a betrayal. And in my guilt, I have but one sure comfort, one truth I can cling onto as I see where this new story takes me.
No writing is wasted.