I have a story that has been brewing for a decade. I started writing it immediately after my divorce (2006), and ignored it for about eight years afterward. I think it’s time to drag it back out and start writing again; this story needs to be told.
It scares me to think that I want to write a book. I know that if something scares me, it probably means I really really need to do it … so, I am.
I’ve started my collection of history notes, I’m developing a plot line in my head as I see the historical information behind my choices, and I’m WRITING in a notebook and keeping a bibliography.
I have a semi-solid idea that everything is going to base off of, but am letting it develop as I work … it’s a fun process.
I enjoy doing research. I enjoy history. I enjoy writing about historical research and adding humans and real people to the history. I’m nerdily excited by this work I’m doing. It’s good to feel passionate about something again.
I’ve written three novellas before … never edited or shared them, but I’ve written them. I can do it again, right? Of course.
I’m writing a book.
I’m writing a book. Whoa.