I don’t know how some people do it. At the moment, I have about 18,000 words written on my latest book. It’s slow going. Kids are home and constantly fighting which interferes with my sexy-writing mojo for some unfathomable reason. I’m not sure how I feel about my story, or maybe my characters, or maybe where I’m going with it sometimes. Then I’ll go back and read some of it, and think, Yeah, I dig this. It’s gonna be good. Keep on keepin’ on.
And then I get another idea that I reeeeaaaaaalllllllllly want to write on.
Now, I could double team with something like a short story and a novel because the short would get done fast—a quick casual affair—and I’d be back in the saddle soon enough with my novel none the wiser.
But writing on two or more biggies at the same time? I don’t think I could do it. It seems wrong. Dirty. I’d get confused going back and forth. Start to love one more than the other. Maybe never come home to my original after a while.
So, that’s why, when I wrote out a blurb for a new idea and then jotted down part of a scene on a pad of paper today (yeah, the old-fashioned way because somehow that didn’t seem like cheating on my WIP. Sorta like giving an unfinished hand job to another dude wouldn’t be cheating on your husband. It’s bullshit. I’m not fooling anyone), I got a bit nervous. I’m excited about this new idea. I think I’d probably burn through it because I love the bare bones of plot I’ve outlined, not like my hot and cold relationship with my other project. I want to give the shiny new idea all kinds of hand jobs and tell my old WIP I’ve got a headache and then roll over and start snoring.
I know, I know. After you start digging, scrubbing your characters’ toilets and picking up their dirty socks, the luster wears thin. I know this. Sooner or later the new book idea won’t be so spiffy, once I’m elbow deep in it.
That’s why I can’t just pack up and leave my WIP like some faithless hussy. Whatever happened to good times and bad? I need to put in the effort to make this work. Go to counseling, or maybe to that empty office in church where I like to write gaylicious snoo-snoo. Break through the writer’s block with a big chunk of words and a spit-lubed jerk-off for the old ball and chain.
A few hours ago I changed the name of one of my main characters on my WIP because it was a little similar to the name I’ve picked for a character in the new idea. Some character I just freakin’ met.
I tried to tell myself that the new name is even better for my old boy. Porn starier. Hell, maybe it will be just the spark we need to reinvigorate this relationship.
I’m horrible! Does almost a third of a book mean nothing to me? I’m a cold, calloused cunt, sniffing around every pretty book idea that passes by like an author in heat.
Pretty soon I’ll be coming home from Starbucks with lipstick stains on my hard drive.
Maybe I can give them both equal attention. Maybe I can find a way to spend time with my book husband for part of the week and put up my wicked hot new book boy toy in a sweet little corner of the library and visit for the occasional quickie (which would morph into me forgetting my old book’s anniversary and eventually robbing all of its names and one-liners).
No. I’m not that kind of author. I swear. I’ll be faithful. I’ll get ‘er done like a good girl. Till The End do us part. I can do it. But first…I’ll just…be a minute.
I gotta go do that thing, you know, with the thing… <coughs out something incoherent and runs off to find a sticky note and pen>.
On a side note:
Mistakes from the past, feelings denied, and a career on the rise may doom their relationship before it has a chance. K. Vale pens a wonderful, contemporary romance with humor and heat in Hard Act to Follow, Book 3 of her GLBT series, Shooting Stars. Enjoy the twists and turns as best-friends-turned-lovers fight old fears to find new love and their happily-ever-after.
Kyrie is an actor with a physical aversion to telling lies, a one-eyed cat, and horrible taste in men. His ex-brother-in-law and best friend, Greg, harbors a secret crush he can’t shake. After denying his feelings for Kyrie for too long, Greg finally gives in to desire one drunken night. Come the morning, the facts get twisted. Kyrie pretends he doesn’t remember a thing—a lie that eats him alive—and Greg can’t stop thinking about how he screwed up the best thing in his life.
Before they can clear the air, Kyrie follows his dreams to New York City, but could he also be running away?
A mistake from Kyrie’s past detonates their silence, and Greg is forced to confront the man he loves. Is their new truth strong enough to support a relationship, or are they doomed to crumble under old fears? Their friendship could evolve into something a million times stronger, but maybe Kyrie’s act is just too hard for Greg to follow