Writing's a lot of waiting, sometimes. I don't mean sitting around waiting for inspiration to strike (if I did that, I’d never commit a word to paper), but waiting for the rusty wheels of publishing to turn.
I had a long-awaited and very welcome holiday at the end of last month and didn’t write a single word for nearly three weeks. After a period of gritting my teeth and writing through the exhaustion, coming a little too close to burnout for comfort, it was glorious. I came back raring to go, but have found myself mostly… waiting.
Last week, I finished the first round of edits on the dark fantasy novel I’ve been working on, filled in the worst of the plot-holes, and started sending it out to the handful of brave, generous souls who’ve volunteered their time as beta-readers. Naturally, the moment the emails had gone out, I found myself thinking, I need to beef up that character arc, and I should have made the villain’s perspective clearer, and I need to explain X, and, and, and. That’s partly the anxiety every writer feels when we’re subjected to the mortifying ordeal of being read, so I’m trying not to let myself get bogged down by it. Note the thoughts down for the next round of edits, wait to see what my readers say, and move on to the next thing.
Which is… more waiting. I also finished drafting a novella earlier this year, a weird, gnarly historical horror thing which I pitched to a publisher as part of a collection. I’m trying to decide whether, in revisions, I want to make it short, sharp and streamlined, or expand on certain aspects and risk it turning into another novel. In part, that’s going to depend on whether the publisher’s interested – so, guess what I’m doing? Yep, waiting to find out.
So, on to the next next thing. I’ve had a couple of ideas competing for brainspace, and right now I’m writing first chapters and outlines for them so I can send them on to my agent, and then wait for her to tell me which one she thinks I should prioritise.
It’s a weird space to be in, on the one hand wanting to race ahead and sink my metaphorical teeth into something new, but also not knowing what yet, and on the other hand being aware that I’ll need to come back to both of those half-finished projects soon enough. It’s not how I naturally prefer to write (I’d rather immerse myself in a book, not surfacing until I’m happy with it, and then never think about it again), but that’s how the business works. I’m trying to get used to it.
Which is a very long-winded way of saying that there are lots of odd, bitty things going on behind the scenes, even if it looks like I’m doing nothing. Maybe some of them will even come to light one day. And maybe in the next couple of months, I’ll get myself together to do a couple more mini-essays, so I've got something more than a life update to share with you. (Do you like those? Does anyone read them?)
In the meantime, I’ll be here. Waiting.
Writing News
I had a couple of things out in May. First of all, a new story,
. It's a dark fantasy fairytale about girls with magical healing powers in their blood, forced to bleed for the greater good, and it's free to read in
The Future Fire
.
I also reviewed Eliza Chan's climate fantasy novel
Fathomfolk
for Issue 10 of
. (The short version: not perfect, but still a pacey and compelling read.) You can grab a print or digital copy from the website, and make sure to check out the stories too, as
Gwyllion
always publishes great work. My contributor copy just arrived in the post, so I'll be getting stuck in very soon.
And finally, my post-apocalyptic story "Little Shade" will be appearing in an upcoming issue of
, the new-ish sister zine to
Fusion Fragment
. Features grief, sisterhood,
Wuthering Heights
and a stray cat.
What I've been reading
I managed to read quite a bit on holiday, and my absolute favourite of the books I devoured was Elizabeth Hand's quiet horror novella
Wylding Hall
. Centred around a folk-rock band pretty clearly modelled on Fairport Convention, it's told in the form of documentary interviews as, years later, the remaining band members try to figure out why one of their number mysteriously vanished. The oblique, light-touch horror, never over-explained, reminded me of Robert Westall, and the dreamy, eerie atmosphere is immaculate.
What I've been watching
Like probably every other horror fan out there, the highlight of my month at the cinema was
Sinners
, and not just because of the two Michael B. Jordans. Like
From Dusk til Dawn
with a social conscience and a love of music, it's gorgeous, nasty, and heartbreaking.
What I've been listening to
I started the
Conspirituality
podcast a couple of weeks ago, but didn't really manage to get into it. Not because I disagreed with what was being said, but because the early episodes seemed a bit rambling, and kept referencing niche kerfuffles I'd never heard of. Does it get more focused/listener-friendly? Or would I be better off just reading the book?
That's all from me for this month. 'Til next time.
JL