I got this one nailed.
I pay for this site every year and I keep saying that I’m going to buckle down and write something in it to justify it’s existence.
I notice my last post was 2 and a half years ago. How’s that working out for me?
I started writing this post yesterday at 6 am. During the timespan between then and now, I cleaned out the bunny’s cage, made a couple dozen pierogies, reorganized 3 closets, watched football, gave myself a pedicure and went to bed, completely forgetting to type anything.
This morning, I figured out what my problem is. I’ve got a bit of writer’s block coupled with an identity crisis.
Usually, I have a rough outline of my next novel while I’m writing my current novel and just as soon as I finish one, I start right into the next one. I have ideas, I just don’t know which direction I should go and it’s affecting my ability to open up a new Word Doc and start typing.
Do I want to be a Contemporary author? Paranormal? Suspense? My last Contemporary was a complete flop. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but it took me a year and a half to finish and when I threw it out there for public consumption, I knew I made a mistake. It’s been a year and I haven’t heard a peep about it. I figure if they don’t have anything good to say, perhaps readers aren’t saying it.
So, on to the next novel – a paranormal that I loved so much, I decided to try for traditional publishing. This was my baby. My brilliant creation. I poured my heart and soul into this sucker and I thought for sure, I had something this time.
Maybe not. During the six months I’ve been waiting for a response, I wrote something else. Another paranormal with a fairy tale twist and to be honest, I don’t know if I can top this one. I love everything about this novel – the plot, the characters, the world building. I self-pubbed again because I really wanted to get this book out there. The response has been quick and very favorable, prompting me to wonder if maybe I should have submitted this one to a publisher. Of course, it’s too late.
And now, I’m at an impasse. I have a Contemporary in mind, called ‘The Simpleton’ centering around the relationship between a career college student, a lumberjack and a case of intentional mistaken identity. (Say what? Yeah, I know, sounds weird, but I think it could work). Or, do I go the dark route of the OCD, sociopathic, female med student with a God complex working as a cleaner for a crime boss?
I keep switching my genres around, I’m starting to get literary whiplash.
Hopefully, I’ll figure this out soon. For now, I have some sock drawers that need my attention…