The countdown towards the end has already started, and no, I’m not talking about the new year, but about when I finish with the blog and start with my new book.
Being honest, I’m not ready. Part of me wants to keep blogging and use it as an excuse not to sit down and write. Pathetic, I know. But I’m not going to lie to you.
I have about four ideas from years ago, already brainstormed and organized. It’s just a matter of getting my old hard-drive and starting to open folders; or look for the backpack in my closet, and start taking out written notes and loose papers.
It’s really kind of funny. You’re like a literary detective investigating yourself. Hopefully, I’ll be totally amazed at past-me’s ability to get everything pretty summarized and explained for future-me. It’s one of the best feelings you can have as a human being, knowing that the “me” from before was watching over the “me” from now.
BUT, there is also the possibility of finding unfinished crap. And I’ll get mad at myself, what the hell was I thinking at the time. How is it possible that I did not make even the slightest effort to leave this ready for the imminent future when I’ll have to write my new book.
Nah, I fuck around and make jokes about this, but past-me is one of the people I trust the most in my life. I remember I left a concept map with the plot diagram planned out, short story titles to read, and even foreign folklore references to investigate.
Once I’m there, there’s no turning back. Because once I start, I can’t stop. I have to keep running warm, even if it’s slow, but always at a good steady pace.
Writing a book is not a race, nor a sprint, it’s a marathon. There are days I feel ready to get started, but other days I think about literally every other project I could do instead. It’s only a matter of weeks till I test my mettle, yet again.