To those reading, who were looking forward to it, and
especially to those of you who encouraged me to write this romance, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but please know
it’s not for lack of trying. I wrote 90,000 words, but not a one that made me proud.
I like romance… well
done romance. I admire the authors that can fill a book with so much
emotion and yet keep the plot minimal. Good romance books can be the epitome of
great writing. Romance novels are
character-centric. Everything we know
about the world is taught to us by the characters. The plot is totally in the
hands of the characters. My writing is not yet at that caliber. I
cannot forsake adventure and action for romance alone. Not yet, anyways. And I
will not settle and publish a romance that is not somewhat representative of
the best the genre has to offer. I don’t want to write pulp or rely on troupes,
which is what I was doing with “The Scorpion King”.
I was furious with the novel. For several weeks I would open
up the huge document only to stare loathsomely at it. At night I would go to
bed hating it. All the imperfect scenes would weigh upon me, but I didn’t know
how to fix it. I wanted the novel to be tighter, but at 90,000 words my
characters were still floundering for what to do next.
I started beating myself up about it. I stopped talking
about my writing. I changed the subject when it came up. Days passed and I
became more and more self-depreciating.
Kyle stopped me in the end, which is the wonderful thing about
husbands. We sat down and discussed the novel and my issues. He suggested a few
things I could do to fix it, and I told him I had already tried all those
things. So he suggested I move on. “The Scorpion King” was slowly zapping away
my will to write, and I was stagnating trying and failing to fix it.
So on his suggestion, I imagined a whole new world with a
whole new plot and characters and writing style. Writing the first chapter of this new story was a breath of
fresh air. Things happened, characters reacted, dialogue flowed. Even so, it
will take time to heal the damage to my self-esteem. I’m disappointed with
myself, and the feeling is still raw. I showed my husband the opening chapters
of my new story. I watched him read them with my heart in my throat. He says he
likes them, but—alas!—I’m still stuck in this negative mindset.
I’m working hard to clear my head and focus on my new
project. I’m 20,000 words into “Umbra,” my new action/adventure. I’ve returned to a style I enjoy
(first-person, present tense) but I’ve introduced something new. If I’ve
learned anything from “The Scorpion King” disaster, it’s that I need to broaden
the scope of my characters’ voices. Just as I worked so hard on my descriptions
in “Farro and Sulfur”, I intend to work equally hard to enliven the moody,
reflective characters that occupy the world of “Umbra”.
I hope fellow writers will join me in the spirit of
self-improvement. I hope readers out there will forgive me for the delay while
I stagger back to my feet. I can only blame myself. I knocked myself to the
ground, and now it'll take time to pick myself up.
Thank you, kind readers, for the emails and reviews that, coupled
with the encouragement of my famously kind husband, have kept me grounded.
