Still here

I’m remarkably sanguine about my lack of progress as a writer at present. Certainly, to look at it one way, I am going nowhere. I have no expectations of publication, I’m not working towards self-publishing, and my work in progress has been in a state of more-or-less-stalled-ment since August.

But, as I said, I’m not feeling like the world is on my shoulders. Because, though progress is glacial, it is happening. I am productive with my commercial work, at least, and I’m managing to squeeze odd sessions of original writing in around the edges – and that makes all the difference.

Yes, Breathing Fire is still moving forwards. I’m now climax-adjacent – by which I mean I’m setting the final pieces in place, manoeuvring both heroes and villains, before I let them have at each other. Actually, that might not be quite true; rather I’m at the false climax, where it all goes wrong, before the true climax where… well, I’m not entirely sure what’ll happen there. But I’m sure it’ll be action-packed and full of thrills.

Setting it down like this makes me realise there is still so much to do. I am still so far away.

But I am going to do it. One session, on page at a time. Whether it takes me a month or a year (money’s on the latter), I shall get there.

And, really, time isn’t an issue right now. Maybe that’s a bad thing; maybe I’m too comfortable – I need some crisis to propel me to action. But I have my two submissions out and I am awaiting rejection. Until my dream publisher finally turns me down I’m not looking to do anything with the work I’m sitting on (whilst keeping a weather eye out for other opportunities, of course); I have a book, a good book, ready to go. Once the rejection arrives I’ll consider self-publishing or whatever.

Until them I shall potter along, keeping my foot in the field with my editorial work and reading the best and the brightest of the forthcoming, and squeezing what little I can from my brain.

So maybe it’s not the glittering career I’ve been hoping for, full of stars and celebrity and champagne, but I’m still here, still hoping, still tapping away.

After nearly nine years of blogging, and a lot more of writing, that’s not such a small achievement. I’m still here.

I’m still here.