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.