At just over 27000 words written in ten chapters I have a novella. There may be more that I can add, I’ll mull over the story at a distance for the next week or so, but I think that I am done. When I have returned to the keyboard and read, and re-read I delete more words than I add. Writing seems to come down to removing words rather than writing them – for me that’s the case most of the time.
If I had more to say I’d add it but I don’t. I could ‘flesh it out’ but I don’t want love handles padding out my work for the sake of more words on the page to satisfy the idea of what a story needs to be. For the most part I’m done and little shell shocked at the thought of it.
The next step is to put it out there and myself with it. Daunting doesn’t really describe the feeling behind that task but it’s in the right direction.
For years I have tinkered away in my fantasy land growing my creative habits and learning of the craft of writing. This has been challenging and scary and exciting. I have overcome many blocks that have stopped my progress, all of these blocks I have found to be imagined or fuelled by ignorance from a lack of experience.
Now it’s time for my creative process be taken from my control.
I’m very intimidated at the prospect of not being able to be present with my work at every moment as I give it over to others, but I will. I have found a writing programme to apply to where, if they deem your work publishable, it will be pathwayed into the hands of agents and publishers.
All I can do is try and see how I go. Beyond that it is out of my control.