It has been 4 long, long days since I have read a new book. This knowledge/inspiration desert has been tough on me, I won't lie.
At first, I didn't know how the Ultimatum would resolve itself. I knew I wouldn't touch a book until I had written the prologue--I couldn't go against Damon's wishes like that-- but it was very tough going.
The first day, I wrote a few paragraphs.
The second day was little better, I could think of nothing, so I went to work after writing nothing and with little hope of ever knowing a new book. The meager brainstorming I did at work resulted in me adding paragraphs of scene description to what I already had.
As I tried to sleep on the second night I had a brief burst of inspiration which made me glad that I had a pad of paper and pen on my bedside table.
On the third day, I woke to rainy skies that mirrored the aching of my soul. (melodrama, anyone?) It was my day off, so I went off to run errands. When I arrived home I spent a few hours working on the marketing strategies for Only The Stars Know. Then I spent a few more hours creating a book trailer. Then I spent an hour watching TV.
By the time 1am rolled around I was thoroughly disgusted with myself. Really, self? This was the best I could do?
So, I pulled out the big guns. Sometimes the only way to get excited about a scene is to have lived it. Sometimes the only way to get all the details is to have lived it.
After going through my Big Gun Secret Process I started scribbling madly away at my journal. I literally could not write fast enough to get the scene onto paper. By 3:30am I had the gist of it down, and I couldn't stay awake any longer. I laid aside the journal and turned out the light. I fell asleep easily.
On day four I woke up late, a result of being up until 3:30, I'm sure, so I got ready for work and left soon after. Business was slow at work, and I was itching to work on the book, so I requested to go home early and ended up leaving around 8pm. I stopped for dinner and then hightailed it home. I brainstormed for about half an hour (painting my nails is a very good way to brainstorm, I have discovered) and then discovered I had left my journal in the car. I ran through the dripping cold rain to retrieve it and then finally sat down to finish the prologue.
Last night, around about 12:15am, I finished that prologue.
It is...indescribable. Damon asked me if I love it, and I had to reply honestly that I could not love it, because of the horrible pain he suffers through for it. But I am proud of it. I think my writing ability is becoming more and more finely honed with every story I write. And I think that you, the readers, will love and hate the story, which are not two different things, but facets of the same thing: passion. And I want this story to inspire passionate responses.
Of course, the best news is that as long as I type up the prologue today, Damon said I could start reading my new books immediately! Huzzah!
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