Listening to: Florence + The Machine - Lungs
Starting a new book is always equal parts exciting and nerve-racking for me. It’s exciting because I finally get to put an idea on paper that I’ve been banging around in my head for a while. I get to create new characters and new worlds. It’s nerve-racking because it’s the very beginning of the story. The pages are blank. So many things could go wrong in the 90k+ words it will take for me to finish. What if my muse goes silent? What if the voices stop telling me their story? What if I don’t finish the novel, too stuck somewhere and unable to push past? What if, what if, what if?
I have to ignore all the what ifs and naysayers in my own head. Because if I listened to them, I would never finish anything. I have to focus on the idea, the story I’m trying to tell, and let those voices be the ones that stand out above the din in my head.
I’m a chapter into my new work-in-progress. Only one chapter down, a mere 4,000 words. It’s still so new. The characters are still being developed, the world still being built. I remain excited and nervous. But by about the third chapter, I will start to find my groove. I will stop being nervous, though will remain excited until the manuscript is finished. The story will require my undivided attention, and I won’t stop until it’s complete. The voices in my head won't let me.