I'm writing again. Like actually writing.
Last year I wrote and indie published a romance novel, THE LIGHT BETWEEN US, and it was short, a fast beach read, and kind of ended abruptly. Readers wanted more -- I'm not sure if this is a good or a bad thing, but I'm running with it, and have always planned to write a sequel.
I'm writing it now. I'm two chapters, 4,558 words, into the thing.
I never expected this to be happening now. I'm 3 months postpartum with our third baby (2nd living), and before we got pregnant I promised my husband that I wouldn't try to produce anything creative for a year afterward, because with our first son I facilitated a major e-course and burned out in a bad way.
But here I am, 3 months out from birth, with a baby and an almost-3 year old at home, and I'm writing a book.
Slowly, of course. Because I just can't do much, because kids. And I'm not willing to give up sleep. But on weekends, for a few hours, I'm writing.
And I love it.
And of course it's terrifying.
But I'm doing it, and I love that I'm doing it. What's that quote by Dorothy Parker? “I hate writing, I love having written.” Yep. Kind of that. It's one of my favorite quotes about writing.
What excites me most about writing this book at this time, though, is that it makes me feel legit. A "real" writer (not that I was a "fake" writer before, is there such a thing? either you write or you don't). Because I can't help but write this story. It's in my head, and I have to see it through.
It's kind of maddening.
And I love it.
Now I will go back home and nurse my baby and cuddle my sassy older boy, and read love stories on my phone while I nurse the baby in the night to keep my mind fresh and ready for when a free hour presents itself.