Hot Chocolate & Feeling Like a Kid Again

I had an epiphany not so long ago.

I realized that xyz types of writing didn't seem to be working out for me. I wanted to write literature. Like Proust. I am not a woman of small ambitions.

Once I realized xyz types of writing wasn't working for me, the writer in me refused to give up. Half empty, hell no. If xyz wasn't right for me, that must mean what is right for me is still out there. Yet to be discovered.

But I am guilty of committing the crimes every writer commits and some even with impunity. I realize my biggest crime I don't realize I'm guilty of is, I don't always start what I finish. I tend to get plenty of ideas, but write very very few of them out.

I decided that the latest thing to pop into my head was going to be what I was coming out the gate with. It might have been the right decision. In the past week I've outlined (for the very first time with some actual direction) my entire book. I know it's going to be a series, most likely a trilogy. I'm already on to ideas for the second book.

I've gone a step further than a basic outline. I've pinned down the first chapter. I know what will happen in the second and the third and the last.

I've made drawings of characters. A map of the world as it exists in this story. I'm researching. I'm scouting locations. I'm making the characters come to life in my head.

It's like I'm a kid again. Getting ready to tell myself a story.

That hasn't happened to me in a really long time.