This past week has been a weird flailing dash towards the finish line of summer. I haven’t been writing much, I decided to change some details of my MMC which felt like something I needed to do to move forward with writing, and I think it’ll eliminate some issues with motive and clean up the plot a little. So instead of making progress I’ve been editing.
Ugh. I promised myself I wasn’t going to edit anything until my SFD (shitty first draft) was done, but in order to move the plot forward I want to button up a couple details so that things make sense. Interestingly, I’m not losing word count or even staying the same, I’m gaining word count, so that’s nice. Even though I’m swapping out details, they seem to be more fleshed out. Or something. I’m not sure, I’m a book writing newb so maybe I’m really fucking shit up. Fingers crossed I’m not though.
Either way, I do not want to get caught in an editing eddy, swirling around endlessly in story that’s already been written to avoid pushing the story forward. I’ve also been feeling a bit of anxiety about going back online after two whole months away. It felt good though. Good enough that I was like… maybe I’ll fuck around and #pivotabitch and come back as maaaybe not quite a DIYer anymore. I mean ya girl will always be a DIYer, it’s in my blood. But I’m, well, de-niche-ing. I don’t think I meant to niche down in the DIY world so hard, but I loved it and I was good at it so it felt good to do. Especially as a new mom who was STRUGGLIN to find herself in the postpartum hellscape. DIY helped me feel powerful. Gave me something purely my own to pursue. And it was a place I’ve always felt pretty confident, and I felt very much not confident in every other area of my life. DIY was a port in a raging storm.
But I let my artist hibernate. She came out to play sometimes, in service of DIY, but never to create art for art’s sake. And I’m waking her up now. Hibernation season is over.
