I’ve spent the better part of the last month researching agents and editors, revising my previous manuscript, editing my query letter, and pondering whether or not to enter contests.
I’ve not done a whole lot of writing, and I feel out of practice. Rusty.
I have a goal set that I’d like to write a thousand usable words a day. I think at that rate, I can have a manuscript done in about four months. I think it’s totally workable. My first book (The Silver Cord, which admittedly needs to be rewritten) only took me four months to write. My second, The Queen Killer, took me about six months to complete, but I was writing two books at the same time, and the third, The Marker, I finished in January, after starting it in May. Though, I must admit, I spent most of October and November and part of December completely revising The Queen Killer, so really, it didn’t take me that long to finish, either. I had a couple of scenes that I just couldn’t get out, but once I took those scenes out and reworked them (either by shifting the POV or simply changing the scenario), they came together nicely, I think.
I started my current manuscript (tentatively called Attendant) in April, after I discovered (or decided) that the book I was working on was actually the last in the series. I love the hero in that story, but he works best being closer to the ending of the entire series. So I have the final book in the series nearly half way complete.
I’m only about a quarter of the way through my WIP.
I write a sentence. I erase it. I rewrite it. I add a word. I take out a word.
My rhythm is completely off.
When I wrote my first book, I didn’t worry about the blog. Or edits. Or really, much of anything but writing. When I sat at the computer, the words just fell off the ends of my fingers (yes, they were crappy words, but they were words. I can always work with what’s been written). Now, if I write 1000 words a day, I’m not only proud of myself, I’m freaking astonished.
It’s not that the words aren’t there. It’s that I’m feeling perpetually distracted by something. Blog. Querying. Kids. Work.
So I’m re-mapping out my entire second book. I tend to think of myself as something of a pantser–because that’s how I work in real life–but I think once I get the plot written down and the scenes mapped out, I’ll have a focus for my imagination, and the words will come back.
My rhythm will come back.
I know it will.