Sorry the blog's a little late this week. Sunday was a road trip and Monday was an intense writing session. My editor correctly saw the need for three well-placed new chapters for The Long Run. Between morning and afternoon practice I found a sweet groove and wrote those chapters in one sitting. That's a lot.
My head hurt by the time I was done. I sat so long my legs were stiff when I stood. Sent the whole thing off to New York then realized it needed something more, so I sat down again after a dinner of Atomic Wings at John's Pizza and added some fills — a line here, a new paragraph there. Then I sent THAT to New York well past my bedtime and promised I wouldn't touch the manuscript again until I get feedback on the new edit.
So now I'm sad. The reason I was able to write three chapters in six hours is because it's the end of the book. That's when the writing is glorious.
Early in the book, when the concept is new, it's all about figuring where to go next. It's hard work. Slow work. Things pick up in the middle when you find the voice.
But at the end, when all is written and the writing process is nothing more than fussing, it's a party. Nothing to do but make the adjectives stronger and take out needless articles. It's fun. The sadness comes from letting it go, knowing the writing won't be so fluid until this point in the next book sometime next year.
Now it's things like photo selection and crafting the elevator pitch. But in the back of my mind I'm also thinking of the future. I just walked away from a chance to co-author a book with a famous guy whose name is not the same as my former co-author. I'm really in no mood to do all the writing and research and subsume my ego for the sake of a check. The voice I use in The Long Run is distinctly mine. I wouldn't lose it altogether if i wrote with someone else, but it would take a long while to get it back.
My goal when I walked away from the Killing series was to take my writing to a higher level. I've definitely done that with TLR. It's funnier, sadder, more intense. It’s is a summation of thirty years writing books, looping all the way around to the sort of stories I wrote when I freelanced magazine articles for a living..
So maybe you're thinking I should lighten up a little. Didn't I just write about taking it easy a few weeks ago? I'm in the mountains. My time is my own. I have many books to read. I can hike anytime I want. Nap. Play my guitar. I'll do all those things.
But here's another thing: I'm flirting with really focusing on recovery days being super-easy for my runners this summer. I mean REALLY easy. Thirty minutes, strides. Nothing more. That way they're mentally, physically, and emotionally ready for the hard stuff.
I'm a little afraid to do that with my professional life. I panic a little when I wonder where to go next, and in that panic I return to my keyboard, as I'm doing this instant — as if work leads to answers (it doesn't). So I'm going to get up now and take a long walk in the sun, knowing I have absolutely nothing to worry about. God will point me in the right direction soon enough.