I think there is nothing crueler than having the ambition and physical ability to do something but the arbitrary always seeming to eat away the time needed to perfect it. But fortunately, there are little ways to force change when it’s necessary, and mostly it’s careful planning. It is the hour of renovation and it will be half-hideous and half-beautiful.
I threw down a list of “official” books I wanted to create in the next few years, “official” meaning plots or poetry concepts developed and interesting enough to want to see through to the end. I’m going to condemn myself to a year-long NaNoWriMo-type experiment in 2019 and I will never want to write anything ever again by the end of it, but if I don’t this year, I won’t have the time later.
I want to get all of my poetry done and transition to fiction… eventually. Not crystal clear on the publisher or date of anything more, but I have at least seven by my own hand that need finalizing. Loverboy is already out in Kindle (and Unlimited for a time), if interested. I dread publishing Absolute Heaven near the end of month, but maybe you’ll enjoy it. The early reviewers seemed to love it, so that’s uplifitng. It’s… unusually large and weighty and artsy for a poem book, though, and that means a lot of tedious formatting fixes, I’m sure.
If nothing more at least I can say by the end of 2019 I will have held a book of my own in my hands, and I think that’s worth a lot.
If you want to join me in the horror and blood-curdling distress, my goal is 80 pages a month. Marginally less stressful than 100, that’s only 2 and a half pages a day. (Which, by the way, also translates to a slightly larger number of pages in print than on-screen but nevermind the page count. Just write like a madman who hasn’t seen a keyboard in years.)