At Lewis Ends

Bet you’re wondering where the blog post title came from, huh? It’s from everyone’s favorite South American bear:

Paddington often found himself at loose ends, or “lewis ends” as he called it. And I find myself in the same position.

November and December were a push to finish several projects. I finished the first draft and first revisions of a short novel, which is now with one of my CPs *waves at Liv Rancourt*. I finished revisions on two other projects and submitted them. And I finished my first round of revisions on the book that will be published this spring.

Now, I have waaaay too many projects I could be working on. Last year alone, I started (and stalled on) five different projects: a New Adult novella, a New Adult contemporary romance, an urban fantasy/PNR, a New Adult erotic romance, and a contemporary romance. I just started on the fourth chapter of another brand new project. The first two chapters went swimmingly. The third chapter was harder. The fourth chapter…I typed almost 700 words. Deleted 600 of them. Retyped another 400. I’ll probably delete those, too.

I feel like I’m in a holding pattern of sorts. Any one of those projects I just listed I could be working on. At least one of them I know exactly how it’s going to end, and all the events leading up to the end. The two projects I just submitted could (I hope) lead to other projects, so I could get a head start on those. Or start on the next book in a series I have planned (and will hopefully be acquired). Or revise an older project. Or, or, or…

Do none of these.

Nothing is clicking. Nothing’s screaming me me me ME. There aren’t any characters clamoring to be heard, to have their stories told. I had a similar problem at the end of 2012. I’d just gotten done with over six months of nothing but revisions to works I ended up submitting various places. I started four different projects, and of those, I’ve only finished one (Touch). I did, eventually, start a new story and see it through, all the way through revisions to submission (What Didn’t Happen That Night) and it gave me a book hangover.

The problem is those five projects. FIVE. You add those to the other unfinished projects I have, and that’s just too many for me. And this total doesn’t include the story ideas I’ve come up with, two of which I’ve written synopses for so I’ll have something to go off of.

I WANT to finish one of them. Hell, all of them, but I’ll settle for one. I know (or I’d hope) that at some point in the near future I’ll have to write, start to finish, a completely new story on a deadline and I won’t be able to just be all eh, fuck it, and move on to something else that sparks my interest. I will have to plow through it, and write shitty, shitty words, most of which will end up deleted, and I see these unfinished stories as a sort of training ground for that. But I can’t force the words. Believe me, I’ve tried. And I imagine there’s probably a contingent of you muttering to yourselves that I should take a break and not write anything. Again, believe me, I’ve tried. And we all know how well that’s worked out in the past.

There’s also probably a contingent of you that think this is totally a first world problem and I should stop complaining. To which I say, you are totally right and I should. But I’m not going to. So neener-neener.

I’ll figure it out. Maybe I’ll take a few days to just read (not likely to happen). Maybe I’ll revise something (could happen). Most likely I’ll just end up beating my head against an unforgiving surface.

Oh, and here’s my other favorite bear quote:

“I am a bear of little brain, and long notes bother me.” – Winnie-the-Pooh

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