Since I know a lot of Snark readers have been following this blog to get insight into one writer’s weird head, thought I’d share what this current progress feels like.
Pretty hard to explain, to tell you the truth. I feel like I’m on the edge of this massive lake of what looks to be warm, inviting water.
I’m just waiting for the signal.
Been circling the thing for years. I want to dive in. But I don’t know how deep it is–I don’t know what lurks in the darker areas. I know I can swim fast and hard and that I can’t wait to explore the life I might encounter, but will I be able to evade possible predators with sharp teeth and hungry bellies?
Things will change with deadlines.
There will be people who hate the book.
I might open my big mouth and choke on my size eleven foot in public.
The first I kind of look forward to, believe it or not. I work well under pressure and have found I do even better with structure. When Rachel and I first set up our intense critiquing schedule, I worried I’d be able to keep up, but soon learned that I actually thrive on the challenge and since we’re both very honest (painfully, at times) critiquers, I also enjoyed trying that much harder the next time to impress.
The second? I uh, don’t look forward to–of course–but it’s inevitable and justified. I wouldn’t want everyone to have the same reading tastes or this would be a big, old boring world.
The last one? Oh yeah, it’ll happen. I get nervous or excited and just yack. I will actually be yacking while the mind is chanting, “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.” I will also probably trip over these feet a time or two in public. <g>
I’m more excited than anything else. I’m holding my breath while waiting for the signal, anticipation is tingling in the muscles of my legs, my tummy is taught.
I can’t wait to feel that water sliding over my skin. Can’t wait to see how far or how deep I can go. Can’t wait to come back daily and watch the rising of the sun over the smooth water as I look forward to what happens next.