On Doing the Thing (Again)

I wonder if it’ll ever normalize that I keep writing and churning out new novels.

Early this month, I finished the first draft of Far North – Returning: Vic. It’s still a shock. While there’s still plenty of editing work left to do, that’s half-way through the series as it’s been planned.

When I was a kid I had two dreams: become an actress or become a writer. I let myself get talked out of the life of acting. I almost let myself get talked out of writing.

The thing is, as I’ve recently rediscovered, I have a writing problem. Even in moments where it seems to be slow going I still prefer writing. Even when the topic I’m writing about drives me insane, I still prefer writing.

It’s just that expressing myself in this way is easier than any other method of expression.

What I hadn’t anticipated was the feelings that come up with completing a major work. For about four years now I’ve been immersed in the world of Far North. Plotting, writing, discovering, and editing. Yet each time I hit a major milestone, like completing a draft, there’s a mixed sense of relief and emptiness.

Then comes the trepidation as I release it into the world. Will people like it? Could it have been done better? Did I forget to include something? Does it all make sense?

I mention all this because I think it’s fascinating to note. Now that I’ve done this twice, I wonder if it will ever get easier. I wonder if more successful, higher profile, authors become numb to the process or not. I wonder if creating something, dedicating all this time and energy into it, will ever stop producing these feelings.

I wonder if I really want to get so used to creating that I don’t experience that sense of completion and anxiety. That maybe that’s why I keep doing this. The joy isn’t so much in the creating itself; the joy is in reaching the end goal and starting the process all over again.