Friday, May 13, 2016

Remember how I write books sometimes?

Heh. Yeah. About that . . . Have you been wondering what's going on with me and my authorial career? You're not the only one.

I do have news. And it's good news!

But I also have some thoughts on my life lately. And that part is not as good. Not that it's necessarily bad. It just . . . IS, I guess.

Let's start with the good news. I'm teaching a class at a BYU summer writing camp for teens. I did this last year too and it was so fun! I'm really looking forward to doing it again. I know classes like this are supposed to be for the students, but they end up inspiring me too. So that's good.

I'm also very lazily dragging my feet through the self-publishing process for book 2 of The Jane Journals series. It's pretty much written. It just needs some revising. And a cover. And a printer/distributor. And some other things. Sorry if you're waiting for it (all 2 of you). I promise it'll get done sometime before the end of the year. And I promise to keep you posted about my progress.

But what's even better? I have a new cover!!!!! And I love it!!!!!

Isn't it the cutest? I think I have the best illustrator and the best cover designer ever.

Seriously. Love it! This book is scheduled to come out in November and it will follow along with the Primary theme for 2017. If all goes well, I should be writing it later in the summer/early fall.

And now we get to the more contemplative portion of the post.

Here's the thing about my writing: sometimes the words come and sometimes they don't. And I know that I could make them come more often if I were more disciplined. Really, I know that.

I know plenty of authors who push themselves and are so inspiringly prolific. They write every day all day long and in their sleep they dream about their manuscripts so that when they wake up in the morning they've already written another eight thousand words that they just need to download from their brains onto the page. And they write in the shower with their incredible waterproof laptops. And they write while they're driving, in total disregard for the safety of everyone else on the road. They write while they're waiting in line at the post office and they write at airports and in Mexican restaurants and on street corners, and I know all this because I've done it myself.

Okay, I'm exaggerating a little bit. I don't often write while driving. I try to pull over first.

But yeah, some authors write a lot all the time. Some write a little every once in awhile. Some fall somewhere in between.

As with everything else in life, it's not worth it to compare yourself with anybody because there will always be someone who writes more or better than you. Always. Always. I promise. And that's totally okay.

What I'm actually trying to say is that, as you may have noticed from the lack of posts on my blog lately, I'm currently living through a dearth of words. I just don't feel like writing. And I don't feel like forcing myself to write against my will.

I do have several theories about why my life is off-balance like this.

(For most people not writing is the norm, but for a writer it's like a constant feeling of vertigo. You don't really know why it's there, you just know that it's messing everything up. And you really do feel off-balance, especially if you've been writing routinely for years at a time.)

But I don't feel like positing a bunch of probably true theories right now about my lack of words. Because, as mentioned, I don't really feel like writing. Even this post has taken me several days of talking myself into it before I managed to type anything.

I don't even write in my journal as much these days. It's weird. I don't like it.

I'm also sure it will all go away someday—probably sooner than I expect.

And if you happen to be my publisher and you're reading this, don't worry. I know I will have the words when there's a deadline hanging over my head. I can always find them then.

In the meantime, this is one of those problems that's not really a problem and that I don't really feel like trying to cure. I don't want helpful advice. I guess I just want to see what it's like to live a wordless life for a little while. There's something liberating in it. Like taking a break from social media or going undercover as a totally different person. Who ever said I have to be a writer anyway? Maybe that's just not who I am right now.

Final note: to save myself the trouble of trying to write another whole post, I'll just mention here that if you're wondering what's going on with my tiny house, I've been waiting to finalize a few things before I announce them online. But things are on track. And I'm still excited. The countdown is currently at 93 days.

I'm sure the words will come back before then. Probably.