It has been a torturous period. The scope of this project has ebbed and flowed, and as I chisel away everything that doesn’t look like a novel I’m finding the storyline shrinking. But somehow, as it shrinks, the texture has become richer, characters are easier to love, places find the own space and time. And events are have begun to flow with adventure and romance — yes, glorious romance, is in the air too.
I wish I’d kept better records of my progress. I’d like to understand the changes that have taken place in my life. My health has been working against me though.
Finding the energy to sort through the whirlwind of ideas and emotions of the past year has left me drained of energy. And I can’t avoid looking forward and wondering. I foresee at least one year ahead just to complete a first draft. And in saying that I should say that the likelihood that I’ll find the energy to complete a final draft feels remote. In fact, if my health continues to deteriorate, I’m not sure this story will ever be completed.
A year is a long time when you have many ahead, but it frighteningly short when you have few. Even if somehow I manage to create something really fine, a tale that brings enjoyment to a large number of people, I doubt I’ll ever experience any financial reward.
There’s one more thing on my mind. I’ve become increasingly aware of all those other writers out there, people striving to tell their great story. And I shudder when I see them failing due to lack the energy or talent or intelligence or skill. I’m no better than any single one of them, not matter how much research I’ve done or how I’ve developed my own writing voice.
So, there it is and here I am.
The only thing that can have meaning to me is that I’m writing this story because I want to see how it develops. I love the characters, themes, settings and all the other elements I’ve created. I want to bring the thousand pieces of text and recordings, and all the things swirling around in my mind together. It’s simple really, I just want to share this thing that has been woven on the loom of my mind for so many years.
In every way, realizing the hopelessness of this effort is liberating.