Alright, people, I have an announcement to make.
We all (hopefully) know that I’m writing a book that hates me. Not only does it resist being written, it’s extremely disobedient and rebellious, and my characters make tons of messes that I have to clean up. It’s been a thorn in my side for two years now, and frankly, I hate it.
Why haven’t I garbaged it long ago, you ask?
Oh yeah, right. Like I’m just going to throw out my children whenever they get difficult.
I think not.
The fact of the matter is, no matter how much I complain, The Silvershaw of Glenborn is still my baby, and I love it—dirty diapers and all.
Still, even mothers need breaks from time to time.
And, as some of you know (and others don’t), after consulting God and the wisdom of others, I have come to a decision about how to handle my pain in the neck book:
I need a holiday. A very long holiday. And I don’t expect I shall return.
In fact, I mean not to.
*cue the dramatic music*
Okay, fine. I will return to it. But not for a while. I need time to regain my mental energy. So I shall be setting this book aside for an undetermined amount of time, and in the meantime, I will be embarking upon a new writing project, which—*gasp*—you’re not allowed to hear about yet.
Be patient, Precious. I don’t half know what I’m doing myself.
Of course, a decision like this doesn’t come without a few tears. This is the only book I’ve ever worked on, and leaving it behind for a new and unknown project is both terrifying and bittersweet. I know I’m going to come back, but I still feel like I’m leaving a little part of my author childhood behind. My entrance into the world of writing. My first book. My first characters. All that jazz.
I made the mistake of dwelling on this while I was super tired.
Not a good idea.
The result was me writing a tearful and heart wrenching goodbye letter to my characters. (Which I am NOT going to share with you.) However, after I was rested and once again in my right mind, I read over my heart wrenching, tearful, etc. thing, and realized that, while it was beautiful and poetic and all, it didn’t quite represent my relationship with my characters.
Therefore, I wrote it again.
I would like to share it with you as a parting tribute to the book that has shaped so much of who I am.
Even though you have no clue who these characters are, and thus, cannot quite appreciate it.
My Dearest Children,
I would like you all to know that you are brats.
Noyarc— You started out as Gandalf and ended up as Caesar Flickerman.
Explain to me how that works.
Sley— Dude. Seriously. Just relax. No one’s going to touch your stuff.
Emolas— I’m sorry I made literally everything bad happen to you. In my defense, you’re my favorite character, and it’s a proven fact that authors love torturing their faves. Don’t ask me why, but there it is.
Also in my defense, I gave you that cool scene with the light trick thingy where you blew everything up. And I gave you all those little moments where you’d be all pensive and enigmatic while staring into the distance, then suddenly say something really dramatic while simultaneously flipping your amazing hair.
(*cough* Emolas doesn’t actually do that. The Imaginary Boyfriend is not in my story.)
Lotch— Little kids scare me. Yet for some reason, I thought it would be a good idea to have my secondary protagonist be a nine year old. Maybe that’s why Liriel doesn’t like you.
Liriel— I should probably say something sweet and sappy, since you’re my protagonist, but honestly, girl…
You’re a pain in the neck.
End of story.
Goodbye, book. I wish you had been as good to me as I was to you.
Like I said before, I don’t know what I’ll be writing next. Whatever it is, it will probably be horrible. That’s just the way my life works. I can’t win for losing.
But horribleness and cluelessness and all that clunky stuff aside, I do know one thing: Whatever my next project is, it will be an adventure.
So bring it on.
P.S. Remember what I said last time, about changing my gravatar name to ‘The Sarcastic Elf’?
I would appreciate it if you would disregard that.