Chaotic life

So yesterday I managed to actually sit down and write new words for the first time in … well, a long time. A month, probably. I’ve been traveling and packing and moving and oh-yeah-by-the-way we had the holidays in there …

If you’re not a professional writer–or aspire to be one–you’re probably thinking, “A month? What’s the big deal?” For those of you in the pro camp, you know how I felt. Not right. Off. Almost panicky at times.

Last night I wrote the first page–which is sure to change–of my new novel. (Yes, Elizabeth, it’s the next world domination YA). I also did some outlining for the book, which for me is about four pages worth of “this happens and this happens and maybe this happens and oh, yeah, this needs to be worked in, too” with no real semblance of order or structure. My back brain is still working out the details and will let my front brain in on the secret when I sit down to write.

I feel centered for the first time in … well, about a month.


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