How does *that* work?

So, day before yesterday I finished “Requiem,” and haven’t gotten it back yet from hubby for edits.  I decided to start in on the Dream-Drinker sequence stories I promised my publisher (Drollerie), and sat down at the computer to do just that.

There’s just one problem.

Let me backtrack.

Last year I started a piece I felt certain would be a novel.  It was called “Shadow-Watcher,” and I spent all summer working on it until it was novel-length.  That fall, I started an adult retelling of “the Wooing of Etain” (a celtic myth) that bloated to novella size (but it remains unfinished; I’m not quite sure what’s wrong with it).  This winter, I worked on the “Wooing” story, I rehashed “Shadow-Watcher” until it was ready to send out again.  A few months ago, I started “Hattie Locke” — now “Requiem,” and somewhere in the middle of all those words, all those passages of written text….

I think I lost the call of short prose.

Sitting down last night in front of my computer, I stared at the screen, at the open versions of “Dream-Teller” and “Dream-Light,” and it was all wrong.  Just… *wrong.*  The words weren’t right.  I started, then I erased.  I scribed a few more words, and hated them.  I re-read what I’d already written, and it just was not….

It was about that time I saw my character walking along a dusty nighttime road, and knew I was in for a ride.

I’d always wanted to be able to write books.

I’m just not sure how to handle it, now that I can’t go back.


2 thoughts on “falling…. long?

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