Jayne Gets Twitchy
It has been fourteen days, twelve hours, thirteen minutes and fifty-two seconds. Not that I'm counting. Like any addict deprived of her drug, I've got a love/hate relationship going with writing. I finished my last manuscript (a Jayne Ann Krentz title) and put it in the mail to my editor a little over fourteen days ago. Now I'm starting to get real twitchy. That's how it is for me when I'm away from the writing for too long.
Of course when I'm in the middle of a book or, worse yet, at the end, you would never know how much I crave my work. The reason you would not be able to guess is because I do so much whining. I call up my sister blogettes here at RWQ and moan and groan about how painful it all is; how I never should have taken that screwy right turn back in chapter five; how I have absolutely no idea what's going to happen next, let alone how it will end. When I'm in the middle of a book I wake up at three in the morning trying to figure out what I'm going to write in the next chapter which I will be starting in four hours. When I'm in the middle of a book it is difficult to remember that I have a life. All I can think about is the dang book. When I'm in the middle of a book it consumes most of my days and a good percentage of my nights.
No wonder I'm so deliriously happy when I write the two most glorious words in the writer's vocabulary: The End. It's over! Done. I'm free! I can go shopping again without having the experience spoiled by the nagging sensation that I really should get back to my writing because I haven't figured out the next plot twist. I can go to Hawaii and read other peoples' books on the hotel lanai! I can run some kitchen experiments on the Frank Diet and test them out on Frank! Yippee! Hallelujah! Oh, joy!
In those first few days of euphoria following the end of a book I do projects that I have put off for weeks: reorganize my personal library; go through my wardrobe and throw out stuff; plan a cruise with my family and all sorts of other delightful tasks.
Sometimes I can stretch out this happy time for almost a month. But usually after a couple of weeks, the first twitches begin. I can't help myself. I start thinking of ideas for the next book. Surreptitiously I open a couple of volumes in my extensive collection of "name the baby" books to see if there is one heroic male name left that I haven't already used...
And that's when I know that the good times are over. The siren song of my drug of choice is calling me and I am helpless to resist. I forget about what it will be like toward the middle and end of the book. All I can think about is how excited I am to meet my new characters and fire up a new story. Yippee, I get to write another book...
So, tomorrow morning, I will sit down at my computer to start a new Jayne Castle novel -- another in my Harmony series which includes AFTER DARK, AFTER GLOW and GHOST HUNTER. Love the hero. Great heroine. And I've got an idea for a new dust bunny, too. Her name is Araminta and she collects small, shiny objects...
Because as frustrating, maddening and just plain hard as writing is, there is nothing else like it. Yes, most days are tough. But every so often a scene comes together just right, you see. The rush is indescribable.
Sincerely,
Jayne
Of course when I'm in the middle of a book or, worse yet, at the end, you would never know how much I crave my work. The reason you would not be able to guess is because I do so much whining. I call up my sister blogettes here at RWQ and moan and groan about how painful it all is; how I never should have taken that screwy right turn back in chapter five; how I have absolutely no idea what's going to happen next, let alone how it will end. When I'm in the middle of a book I wake up at three in the morning trying to figure out what I'm going to write in the next chapter which I will be starting in four hours. When I'm in the middle of a book it is difficult to remember that I have a life. All I can think about is the dang book. When I'm in the middle of a book it consumes most of my days and a good percentage of my nights.
No wonder I'm so deliriously happy when I write the two most glorious words in the writer's vocabulary: The End. It's over! Done. I'm free! I can go shopping again without having the experience spoiled by the nagging sensation that I really should get back to my writing because I haven't figured out the next plot twist. I can go to Hawaii and read other peoples' books on the hotel lanai! I can run some kitchen experiments on the Frank Diet and test them out on Frank! Yippee! Hallelujah! Oh, joy!
In those first few days of euphoria following the end of a book I do projects that I have put off for weeks: reorganize my personal library; go through my wardrobe and throw out stuff; plan a cruise with my family and all sorts of other delightful tasks.
Sometimes I can stretch out this happy time for almost a month. But usually after a couple of weeks, the first twitches begin. I can't help myself. I start thinking of ideas for the next book. Surreptitiously I open a couple of volumes in my extensive collection of "name the baby" books to see if there is one heroic male name left that I haven't already used...
And that's when I know that the good times are over. The siren song of my drug of choice is calling me and I am helpless to resist. I forget about what it will be like toward the middle and end of the book. All I can think about is how excited I am to meet my new characters and fire up a new story. Yippee, I get to write another book...
So, tomorrow morning, I will sit down at my computer to start a new Jayne Castle novel -- another in my Harmony series which includes AFTER DARK, AFTER GLOW and GHOST HUNTER. Love the hero. Great heroine. And I've got an idea for a new dust bunny, too. Her name is Araminta and she collects small, shiny objects...
Because as frustrating, maddening and just plain hard as writing is, there is nothing else like it. Yes, most days are tough. But every so often a scene comes together just right, you see. The rush is indescribable.
Sincerely,
Jayne
posted at 3:09 PM
