So I finished my fourth book yesterday morning.
In the incredibly early morning hours, I chronicled the stories of my characters through their fourth book. I called it quits around 4:45 am because I felt spent. If I hadn't been crying for hours on end, I probably could have plugged away through all day yesterday. But, as I knew it would be, I was bawling my eyes out pretty well from 12:30 till I wrote the last sentence of the book.
Why you might ask? It's fairly simple really: I was writing sad things. Character deaths were popping up all around every corner and, as I write an ensemble cast, I write the impact that death has on everyone still alive. It's never a fun experience. As I mentioned in the previous post, killing characters is like killing a part of yourself. If anyone found it easy, I imagine they wouldn't be a very good writer because they wouldn't be able to relay the feelings of the characters to the audience.
I like to think that, in bawling my eyes out and feeling like someone just killed my puppy, I'm relating to my characters. Therefore by that, I am then relating the audience to the characters. Ultimately it will be determined when my friends and family members read the book. According to my friends, they've been impacted pretty hard by the previous character deaths, so I can only imagine how this one is going to play out.
Today, on the way to a hair appointment, I was telling my mom that I couldn't really fathom what was going on. Let me lay this out for those of you just joining in: Less than one year ago, one of my greatest friends texted me. About a week after she ranted about how much she (a non-fantasy reader), loved my first book, she sent me a poem based upon the first book.
To inspire someone is, I think, the ultimate goal of every author. With that knowledge that my friend felt led to write a poem about my book, I suddenly was fueled to write the second book. In under two months, I finished book 2 and rolled right on into the semester with a fire to write book 3. By the new year, I had finished book 3. From my brother's comments, I rewrote my first book, finishing by early February, all the while writing a novella for my senior seminar class.
And now, only a little over a month after finishing my novella, I finished book 4.
With only one book left to go in the overall story arch (because there's potential for 7 spin off novellas, 2 prequels and a plethora of stand-alone books based on the world), I have to wonder how this has happened. If you had told me a year ago that I was going to write three books, rewrite my first book and write a novella, all in less than a year, I would have punched you and cried that you were mean.
And yet, somehow, here I sit. Four books. Four books and one novella. How...? How did we get here? When did the tomorrow turn into the today? What a crazy phenomenon - the passing of time and the progression of a dream.
With accomplishment and approval at my back, I want to stride forward into the fifth (FIFTH! And it's the final one! Holy wow!), and complete the series. I want to get what's in my head out on paper. I want to see all five books stacked in a pile of paper and words and thoughts and story. Already knowing what the first three manuscripts looked like, a smile plays on my face. This crazy scenario I find myself in is surreal. It doesn't feel possible, and yet somehow, it is.
I like to think that God is blessing me with this. I haven't a clue where He's taking me, but I'm excited. A little nervous from time to time, but mostly, I'm excited. The writing life is an epic adventure of happiness if we allow it to be.
One more. Just go one more.
Smile people. Because the sunrise can be painted in your own world. Don't mind me as I go off and paint mine :)
Currently Writing (add-ons): Alaster
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "A Thousand Miles" the Boyce Avenue Cover
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