I’ve been futzing around with my WIP for a while now, finding ideas here and there, but never getting into the whole writing thing. I thought it was maybe the house issues distracting me, the cramped chaos of my new writing area (see above photo–eeek!), or some random symptom of an undiagnosed malaise. But, today I had an idea for a novel. And I got excited. Really, really excited. That was the moment a grim realization hit me; I’m just not that into my story.
For what it’s worth, the concept for the WIP is solid; there’s a good plot with lots of potential. But, it has been in my brain for the entire time I’ve written Resonance, sat patiently in my thoughts as I polished the other and sent it off to agents. Somewhere along the line I think the sitting might have turned to moldering; it just feels old and tired. And that makes me sad. They were born together, those two ideas, but while I poured my full attention on its sister, Green sat in stasis–immobile to the point of rigor mortis.
Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe I just need some space. A breather.
It’s not it.
Yeah, I think I’m breaking up with my book.