So lately the focus of my writing has been on fiction. Right now, I’m sitting in Border’s breaking one of my rules. (I’m using their internet connection and writing a blog post.) Of course I’m allowing myself this discretion because I just cranked out 2000 words and a new chapter in the novel. I’m up to 40,000 words now.
I want to be a fiction writer. I mean, I’m not sure if that’s what I’m supposed to do as I’m utterly confused with that whole life purpose business, but it is what I feel like doing now. I used to have an endless supply of personal essays and blog post ideas running through my head and now I’ve got nothing. Frankly I’m getting a little embarrassed by what I’m publishing here on Waiting for the Click. How many different ways can I write about not being able to write.
But I AM writing. I’m writing about this interesting 15 year old girl, her slightly messed up parents, and her very sweet friend across the street. I’m writing about reincarnation and history all swept into one elaborate piece.
Through fiction I can put myself out into the world without really putting myself out there. I can write about a character who believes whole-heartedly in reincarnation and is certain they can identify their own past lives without having to address whether I am one of those people. My characters can be and do a whole range of things, but they are not me. I don’t have to believe in what I create in a story and if I do in fact believe it, I don’t really need to admit that to anyone.
I believe that it will take me three to four more weeks to finish the first draft of my novel. I am going to continue blogging during that time, but I am not going to force it anymore. If I’m not inspired to write about my personal thoughts or observations, I won’t and if I am, I will. And as I prefer to believe everything happens for a reason, hopefully the reason for this is to move me closer to my goal of being a published YA author.