Sometimes finishing a story is like losing a friend. I’ve had the experience when I’ve read other’s books, and I’m sure you know the feeling too. You just read through some serious action-y stuff, things have started to work themselves out in the plot, and now you’re getting to those last few pages. You knew this moment would come. The realization set in for you when your bookmark was exactly midway between the front and back. You tried to put it out of your mind, but now you have to face facts. You have to say goodbye to Richard, the character you related most with, and his clumsy ways. You can’t step into that colorfully-described herb garden anymore. You can never live this story for the first time ever again.
Ahh, the old adage. I don’t even have to repeat it to you, and you wanna know why? Because so freaking many people say it.
It’s just another one of those things that make independent publishers like yours truly lose sleep at night and go into mania. And, y’know? That doesn’t leave much time for obtaining sustenance, being a person, functioning in society, writing back your penpals (I think I owe some people an apology)… things of that nature.
Characters are the best.
There may be some people out there who don’t understand this, but… I would say all readers and writers have developed a bond with certain characters they hold near and dear to their hearts. Like Harry from William Sleator’s Singularity—I get the whole sibling-angst thing because, well, I have an older sister and it’s not always sunshine and gumdrops. Or “Gabriel” and Bubba from Julie Gonzalez’s Imaginary Enemy. Those characters resonated with me because I used to have an imaginary frenemy (and he still resurfaces sometimes… DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT).
*sighs and groans of life leaving my body*
The past week month super-long day-melding period of time has been brutal. Countless all-nighters have been pulled. I worked my tail off, and finally… I’m ready for an editor! And I found one, too. As I’ve said before, I’ve taken little Sabine as far as I can go with her. Developmental edits are all taken care of, because I DID ‘EM (because that’s a totally different thing from copyedits and proofreads, BTDUBBS. I still need those, preferably done by someone who’s NOT ME). I’ve beaten the living daylights out of that story and now it’s looking pretty nice. Like, really nice.
We all have firsts.
The first kiss. Hasn’t happened for me yet. ASK ME WHY.
The first time you try to push a pull-open door. We’re all guilty of it. And if you’ve never, congrats. Have a cookie. *hands you a virtual cookie* On second thought, I could go for a cookie. I am the one who tried to push open a pull-open door. Walk it off, homes, walk it off.
I was sitting down the other day having a talk with my blog.
I said, “Blog, I see a void in your life.”
He seemed a little confused. He was all like, “What do ya even mean, I have a void? All my credit cards are legit.” The thing is, my blog doesn’t even have credit cards. He’s always been a little less than honest with me, likes to cleverly change the subject on me. And, oh yeah that’s right, he’s a blog.
That’s when I came right out with it. I was like, “You only have, like, a post or so every month during NaNo time or whenever something noteworthy happens in my writing life. WE. NEED. MORE. FROM. YOU.”