At one point, I had a plan. Isn't that how it always starts? You always have a plan, and it always goes straight to hell. If not instantly, somewhere along the way, the plan just gets blown to bits.
My plan for this year involved editing. Lots of editing. As in, I was going to pull out each of those WsIP I had lying around "simmering" and actually get those things shiny enough to see the light of day.
My plan did not involve writing. Because what I really needed were more MSs overcooking on my backburner. No, this was going to be the year when, instead of generating more unedited, untouched babies, I was actually going to raise a couple into something nice and lovely.
Did I mention that that plan went completely to hell?
After assiduously editing two books -- I don't know if I ever mentioned my edits on Cordamant's Heir, but I think I just changed more than a fifth of that baby, including dropping 10k -- I felt all fresh and ready to bite into something Shiny and New.
Thus came out the lovely work temporarily entitled Here We Go Again, which feels apt in so many ways. This lovely baby had been simmering, then bubbling, then full on boiling in my brain for a good 6 months, and trust me if it hadn't gotten out soon, it might have done some permanent damage in there.
Now, after 2 months of dedicated effort -- and more secondary source involvement than I've ever put into a text -- I've got a first draft.
She isn't perfect, I'll be the first to admit it, and she's not going to be meeting anyone else -- let alone a stranger -- for a while yet, but she's so lovely and new and interesting -- to me at least -- that frankly I don't care.
I feel like magic.
How about you?