Between Draft Blues

In the last six weeks I have written nothing to do with my novel. I’m in Pause mode, in the space between drafts. It feels like limbo, like I’m adrift at sea in a dinghy, unsure that I’ll ever make it back to the main boat to which I’m usually tethered. I’ve been patiently waiting on an author-connection to assess, edit and hand back my manuscript.

An established author who is willing to wade through the muck that is a first-time writer’s work, who is willing to pay attention and use her authorly skills to give advice that will better that work, is, in my view, a fairy godmother. My expectation was that copious amounts of magical instruction would be sprinkled over me like fairy dust, acting like a salve that had the power to transform and transfigure my rather voluminous housedress of a fifth draft into a silken, fitted ballgown. With sparkly glass slippers.

Unfortunately, the wonderful author is human, and this is real life and stuff happened that has prevented her from wading through that muck.

And so, I’m drifting. Directionless. How will I fill in time while I wait for another generous, willing author, to make her way through my storyland, planting seeds and slashing weeds along the way?

The first thing I need to do is relax. Many authors advise to take time off between drafts. At least a month, say some. I’ll come back to it refreshed and see it through a new lens, right? But what if I forget what I was trying to say? What if my characters forget to inform me?

I need to distract myself and focus on all the things I think of doing while I’m trying to write. There are a million things I could do varying from reading to exercising, short courses to socialising, redecorating to cleaning grout. Procrastination comes so easily when the manuscript needs work, so why not now? After utilising the initial month’s break for a two week adventure-holiday, catching up with long lost friends, and listening to writerly podcasts – all very satisfying – I’ve found the extra time has not been so productive.

Perhaps then, I need to revert to a schedule. Get up early, do something writing-related for an hour and a half, like I’m used to (I’ve just enrolled in two online writing courses!), read, exercise, listen to podcasts, research something of interest… Am I mad? What human that lives by a schedule doesn’t crave a holiday from a schedule?

I guess the problem is, I just want to get back to writing my book. I miss it, miss my characters, and miss the progress now that completion is finally in sight. It’s been a long journey. I’m in my sixth year of writing. It’s been hard with lots of heartache and angst and deprivation. But it’s looking like a half decent story worthy of the three women characters who are so brave and loving and formidable.

Waiting has always been hard. Patience needs to be practised.

I know I won’t forget the book’s message and my characters are way too keen to have their journey to let me forget anything they need to do. So, I’ll take a deep breath, step back, and let my sub-conscious and the Universe do what they do best: test me, teach me and make magic.

At least I’ve got time to get back to writing my blog.