I was finally blessed in the summer of 2021 with a fantastic story concept. In fact, I loved it so much I planned out a four book series. That’s when Grasslands and her subsequent books were born, and I’m so proud of them. Grasslands is still in that awful stage of rewrite, rework, edit. Yet, I still love it. I love the story, and the characters, and have managed a rough of book two and the start to book three as I get Grasslands as perfected as I can. Grasslands is Piper’s story, and absolutely nothing like what I’d imagined I’d write someday. However, Piper and her cohorts are pretty adamant that I get their story told. So I’ve put all my writing time, energy, and creativity into their world.
Then, last night as I’m getting ready for bed, a new story just body slams me. I mean, it’s seriously like a physical attack the way these characters demand to be heard! I’d had some minor inspiration for a fantasy story nearly a week prior, and had typed a quick synopsis to get back to… once I was finished with the Grasslands series of course. Oh no, this new book had another idea. I simply HAD to start writing it, and in around twenty minutes I had the rough of chapter one for a totally different kind of book!
I can’t put it away. It’s a genre I’d always wanted to write in, but had never been inspired. (Magical realism/fantasy) It’s a first person point of view, and I’ve always been more comfortable in third. It’s a male main character, which I’ve never written. But it’s compelling, and it’s fun.
After decades of trying to figure out what to write, something I could stick with, I now have two completely different concepts going at the same time. Grasslands will take priority, it’s so close to being ready for the world. This new book will be something fun I write on the side, and perhaps pursue publication someday.
I would like to offer my muse a glass of wine or something though. You’ve done your job, sweetie. Rest awhile and let me catch up.
“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” —William Butler (WB) Yeats