Writing.... Again

The rough draft of The Fish Hook's Daughter ended with, amongst other things, two of the main characters being carried off into the mountains by giant crows. Such is the power of fantasy. That rough draft will sit on it's... wherever rough drafts sit, until I'm ready to look at it. For now I am still amazed by the details that go into printing one's first novel. It seems like everyone has a book out, but if the truth must be known, out of all those everyones there's only one that I know, and I don't know her very well, and her publisher stiffed her. I know me, and for me this is long, difficult work. Here Jamnia sits, still not in book form, still not out for the world to see and I count that it's nearly a year since I first set out trying to publish it. This is standard time for all books, at least, but that doesn't make this one seem any shorter.

And this doesn't mean that I stop writing, or thinking. I began gazing over this next project. Imagine, actually trying to finish what I started. I did finish it, once. I even named it. The title was the The Low Countries and, as one might expect with such a ghastly double entente, the book was so bitter and sad that my computer rebelled and destroyed half of it. So I've been sitting around with half a good novel saying, "Finish me, finish me. And add a little sugar while you're at it."

I begin to peruse this tonight, and am surprised when I find myself grinning.