Shrouded is in the bag. I submitted it to my publisher in early December. It was a labor of love, but not for the reasons you might imagine. The story was there and I love it. Every critique
partner that’s read it cried at least twice -- the good kind of cry -- I feel like it took the right direction.
But here’s the hitch:
Part of me didn't want to finish it.
It’s the last book in the Shroud Trilogy and when it goes, I
feel like I’ll lose something. Some writers love wrapping things up, they enjoy
tying the bow. I thought I was one of them, until now. I have other stories,
one of which I’m 35k into writing, but its not this story, it’s not my first,
it’s not the one I’ve lived with for all these years. As a result, I found myself over analyzing, finding faults, mulling on minutia. As I worked on polishing it, I was also unable to
write anything else, my mind refused to open to other ideas.
At first, I suspected that writer’s block had finally hit.
Now, I’m not so sure. It felt more like cowardice. A fear that the next
story wont work, or happen, that the magic which made words fall from my
fingertips in a deluge, would be carried away on the winds of change. I suppose
there’s really nothing I can do, except move forward and see. Readers have asked for stories set exclusively in the Realm, and while that may eventually happen, Shrouded will receive my first "The End." Even typing that is like a punch to the chest.
As a reader, or writer, what happens with you at the finish of a story, or series? Are
you good with it or do you get twisted up as well?
Look for a special on the first novel
via Kobo in December!
