I had one of those true writer moments this morning. I was driving the kids to school – a route I take every day – and was so engrossed in what was going on in my head that I completely blew past my turn. I couldn’t tell you where I was going. I was too busy trying to figure out how to make David seem less schizo. And in the process became schizo.
I don’t drink and drive. I plot and drive. Wonder which is more dangerous.
If it’s any consolation, I was actually stopped at a light when I realized I was zoning off. That was about the time the kids asked me where I was going. Good damned question, guys.
Oddly enough, it was just that question on my mind in the shower this morning – where am I going? Career-wise, that is. My immediate plans are clear: edit Let’s Dish and market my brains out, and try to sell Another Time Around to my editor. And market my brains out. But then what?
I have three more manuscripts waiting to be edited, re-written, etc. and I have another plot in my head that I’m going to need to get out soon before I lose it. It was a lot more concrete a few months ago. That makes me nervous. I want to start looking for an agent, but feel like I need to have one of those manuscripts completely ready to go before I even try. And I want to do it NOW!
I have no patience. I want these three books to just be done so I can go out there and sell sell sell! But then I saw the fatal flaw in my plan: if you put out more than one book in a year, folks will expect you to keep doing it. That’s all fine and dandy while I’m running through my backlist, but once I have to start coming up with new material on demand? Well, we’ve got trouble right here in River City, and the capital P stands for Plot*. Eventually I will be able to sell on a partial (three chapters and a synopsis). Problem is to write that synopsis, I need to plot. I don’t do that well. So I need time to write. Time. Something I’m not giving myself right now.
So in short, I need to chill. I need to let myself take some time to write, to enjoy the process, and not be sell-crazy. Just like this morning, when the drive took a little longer than I’d anticipated. The kids still got to school. Eventually I’ll get to my destination, too. Wherever the hell that is.
* Apologies to this unfamiliar with The Music Man. What can I say? I did fourteen performances of that musical in six days once upon a nightmare. The music is burned in my brain forever.