Crashing After a Creative Burst
So, I’ve got a novel I’ve been working on for a few years. I’d written two others before, but I had never planned anything as intentionally as this. I was really in it for a while, but my Mom was sick, and work sucked (high school English teacher). Eventually, I lost the thread of it. I pulled it out occasionally, and thought about it often. I lost the consistency though.
About six months ago, my Mom died, and I managed to get a different job teaching at a Tech college. The whole thing was honestly extremely serendipitous. I started writing other stuff first, but eventually picked the novel back up. We’re a bit chained to our desks, which is kind of silly. Even on days I don’t teach classes, I have to sit at a desk. It’s annoying, but kind of perfect for someone who has been desperate most of her life to have time to write. I finished classes a week ago, and they don’t start again until June, so I knew May was going to be a big writing month for me.
I wrote over 4,000 words every day this week. And most of them felt good. Everything is falling into shape, and I feel like I fully understand it for the first time. I knew I was going to finish the first draft today, and I was pretty psyched about
that moment. Then, it came. I kind of feel like I just rolled off a cliff, and splatted onto the ground.
You hear people talk about writing being lonely. It’s really lonely out here. My partner is really supportive, but I just gave him the first 50 pages yesterday. I’ve been trying really hard to protect it these past couple of months, while it’s just mine. I really haven’t talked about it to almost anyone in my life. My friends are all busy, and I feel like a dope asking them to care about my creative writing.
The hardest part is my family. My Dad was always trying to publish a book series when I was growing up. He always wanted feedback, but was never really interested in reading my stuff. My interests are very different than his, and he’s pretty dismissive of most things that I like. My sister would just say I’m chasing the same impractical dream as my Dad. I think my writing is better than his, but what the hell do I know? I’m sure he thinks the same.
The truth is, I want validation. I want people to clap, and put gold stars on my forehead. I’m an adult, and I know I can buy myself flowers. Adults are responsible for their own validation. I’m not like this in any other aspect of my life. I am extremely used to hard work with little praise. This thing just feels so fragile, and I’ve put so much of myself into it. I want someone other than me to love it, and that is a terrifying thing to want.
I’ll include the blurb below, in case anyone feels like giving me a gold star.
Monarda Wyrd is poised to inherit the Wyrd Wood Theme Park and Horror Film Franchise, along with the haunted family legacy that comes with it, when she meets the ghost of a boy who died in a fire on the premises a decade ago. The two begin making a film to preserve that legacy, but inadvertently find themselves uncovering buried violence, generational secrets, and something hungry beneath the woods themselves.