Day 2 0f 27 — When words did flow

 June 22, 2021

 

When I started writing fiction in 2012, I could easily write 3000-5000 words a day. My fingers sprinted over the keyword and my body felt light and buzzed. I was so happy. Things were going on in life that made me sad but writing took me to a different place. I had more ideas than I could work on and wrote several short stories and the first draft of what would be parts one and two of a fantasy series. 

 

After racing through that first draft I stalled. I didn’t know how to revise. I read books on character, plot, setting, conflict, suspense, dialogue — and tinkered with the draft, and coloured post-its lined the wall above my desk. Soon I had almost 150,000 words and I knew I had to split the books. I had five very distinct characters and stories set in a world called Aurora with themes around patriarchy, identity and transformation. On Aurora some teenagers were called to four crafts — Warrior, Elemental, Shaman and Healer — by a dream that left them tattooed with the symbol of the craft. 

 

When I felt I could go no further on my own I enrolled in online writing classes and joined a fantasy and science fiction writing group. Armed with more craft tips I separated the books and revised Book One – Rifal’s Story, till it felt ready. I also had a draft for the next book, Two Journeys. Then supported by my writing group, I sent out query letters to agents! Phew!

 

And I was surprised to actually get responses. A few of them fairly encouraging, about the premise, the themes, and characters. One said I needed to improve the beginning as the writing didn’t pull her into the story and three said they liked the book idea but the protagonist was too old.

 

My female protagonist was 33 years old. She didn’t get a craft dream when she was a teenager and only did when she was already established in a ‘career’. Not that old, not really. But in fantasy, I was told, protagonists are never older than 16 and most times you first meet them when they are 8. My story was exploring transformation and integrating new identities in middle age so I didn’t really want to rework the story. Too many coming of age stories about teenagers in fantasy. 

 

But I was ok to let it go—and anyway the idea for my next book had already formed. I had loved those years writing and rewriting Rifal's Story. I was imagining, creating people and a world, societal norms etc. I was learning and expressing. It was joyous and I was constantly euphoric. I don’t remember any long blocked phases or times when the next bit of the story didn’t come to me. And that memory makes this long arid phase even more painful to bear. But I am glad to remember and feel the excitement of that time, something the depressed state I am in today obliterates.

Almost hitting 500 words so will stop.