I’ve been hibernating.
The year’s exams are over, and a great lack of sleep has prompted me to spend a great deal of time in bed, recuperating. Looking back on the 3-month study marathon, I can only say that a black hole lies in my immediate past. I’m sure I remember all that preparation and stress, but it seems unreal somehow, as though it happened to somebody else. I hadn’t realised until I went to bed that first night after the final paper just how tired I really was.
So exhausted have I been, in fact, that I haven’t been able to muster the will to make an entry to this journal, even. A mere few hundred words is surely a drop in the ocean compared to the thousands of words that pass through my fingers on a weekly basis, yet the very idea of anything requiring thought of perseverance made my stomach turn. Indeed, it’s ironic that I spent so many weeks under so much strain and yet managed to maintain a steady 800-1000 words a day throughout — the only thing that kept me sane; and now that I’m free, I don’t have the energy to put pen to paper.
I’ve found solace, however, in my bookshelf. All those titles that have been dangled in front of my face all year are finally getting a seeing to. While I haven’t skimped on reading this year (a steady 2-hour per day minimum) I certainly haven’t been able to just sit down and lose myself. But now there’s time, and I’m not wasting the opportunity, no matter how tired I am. Five books in as many days have fallen before my unquenchable thirst, and the pace doesn’t look like it’ll slow up for some time.
Yet my time of rest will soon come to a close whether I indulge in it or not. The release of my first ebook is now on the horizon, and there is a great amount to be done to prepare. The manuscript is currently with the proofreader and a crop of wonderful beta-readers, and I’m running around like a headless chicken trying to organise ISBNs, formatting, copyright and the myriad other necessities that need to be put in order.
Oh, I do indeed understand why people chase traditional publishing deals. All of this bumpf is taken care of, even if it is at the expense of such a whopping wedge of royalties. Should the opportunity present itself, I’m keen to go the hybrid route; I’m excited by the idea of working with a publishing house while building my own brand on my lonesome. That’s how publishing should be: a partnership, author and house working together toward success.
In other news, I’m on the home stretch on the WIP novella, Our Fair Eden (no, really really this time). Truth be told, I’ve overrun beyond the 50,000 word barrier, but I needed a little meandering room to get the words on the page. In editing they’ll be snipped clean away, I’m sure.
It’s funny really. Eden is still listed under Short Stories in my filing system. I can remember having the idea back in February and promising myself that I’d limit myself to 12,000 words. (I knew it’d never happen). I have a backlog of novels to get to, and my schedule was all planned out. But I liked this story, though it came from nowhere. It needed my attention. And I’m glad I took a chance and through that schedule to the wind.
As soon as I’m wrapped up with the first draft, it’ll go into the drawer for a while to stew. Then I’ll finish off a short story that’s been skulking in the background for far too long. Then it’s on to the sequel of Ruin!
I’m back, boys and girls. I’m sitting down to write now, and I can feel the creative juices have been stirred by typing up this entry.
Until next time, kids. Behave yourselves while I’m gone. No sugar after seven.