Did I mention I’m writing a novel? I try not to. It seems like an annoying thing to drop. Anyway, it’s a coming of age story. Mostly I just wanted to say that, but it really is a coming of age story. I’ve been writing novels since I was 16, but this is the first one I’ve taken seriously, and it will be the first one I finish. This story has been in my head for more than 5 years. It began as another novel, but then I realized that the back story of one of the primary characters was far more interesting than anything I had plotted for her, so a couple years ago I decided to write her story. But, I was scared of the back story, because it’s dark and felt beyond me. She’s experiencing grief like I never have.
Fear, doubt, laziness, and a busy school schedule have kept me from making any real progress. But, last summer I finally wrote the first two chapters. I was very intentional about it, but the immensity of the project paralyzed me. I put it aside and went back to school. I’ve thought about the story a lot in the last year, but I haven’t written anything. Then, when school let out a couple weeks ago, I just started writing. I ignored the pressure I’d put on myself to make this thing good (like, publishable), and wrote because I felt a responsibility to tell this story. And, that’s where I am now: writing.
