starting something new (again)
just over here trying to combat the everyday demons of writing
Last year, I finished a draft of a romance novel set in and inspired by Western North Carolina, specifically the Chimney Rock area that was absolutely devastated by Hurricane Helene. Earlier that summer, I’d had an extremely creative week on my own in the Blue Ridge, not only writing but journaling, hiking, and meditating (in the form of long pauses to look at the mountains and take hammock naps). That trip was where I decided, at long last, to pursue writing in earnest.
I guess I saw the hurricane as some kind of cosmic sign from the universe. After all, how meaningless was a romance novel set in the area, when people there didn’t have running water or electricity? We’re now a year into the rebuilding of WNC and a large swath of I-40 is still closed, patches washed off the map quite literally.
Eventually, I started something new that didn’t end up sticking; I spent about four months trying to make that draft work, and fighting it at every stage. I felt like I was holding the characters at arm’s length; they were cardboard, unwilling to pop up and become real the way others had in the past.
Months later, I’m starting a new WIP. My WNC novel is still, as we say, “in the drawer” and maybe it always will be. But the drawer isn’t a graveyard, it’s just a waiting room. One day I might feel I can go back to that story. Instead, I’m adventuring into the lives and loves of a new set of characters. Part of me feels guilty for this surge of creative energy, but I’m tired of giving that part the floor. I’d like to try and let my positivity and dreams have their moment because I want to believe that fiction has a place in all of *this* — you’ll just have to picture a used car lot inflatable guy flailing here.
For now, I’m just going to go with it and hope.
