Now that my
book is out there, I feel like resting on my non-existing laurels for a few
days. I have successfully pulled off a
project and have no need to rush into a next one. The summer weather has
improved and I have a couple of things I need to see to first.
Nevertheless,
I’m starting to feel the pull of my next book. It’s there,
somewhere at the back of my head – or where ever these things are actually
located – reminding me of its existence. A writer’s life is about always
starting something new. There is always a new book to write, a new chapter to
start, new characters to meet and new plots to – well – plot. It’s exciting and
somewhat daunting too. Will I be able to write something interesting, or will I
just stare at the computer monitor for days, the constantly blinking cursor the
only sign of life on a blank page?
This time
though, I have already written the manuscript, I just need to work on it. It will be more like meeting old friends I haven’t seen for a while. I’m
happy to see them, but I’m a bit worried too. Have they changed much? Have I
changed? What if we don’t like each other anymore?
Then again,
if that happens, there always is that other option open for writers. Starting afresh.
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