I finished writing Dairyland Murders Book 4: Torso in the Torrent about five hours ago. I took that breath of satisfaction, and now I have to move on. I still need the excerpt for Book 5. I have to decide if I’m going to start directly at the discovery of the crime, or slightly before while the victim is still alive.

I mentioned in this blog the last time I finished a book that the creative process doesn’t really end, it just moves on to the next thing.

A writer friend of mine gave me her first novel to read and give her notes on. As I read it, I immediately found issues, forcing scenes, stereotyping characters, plain old trying too hard. Then, I stopped myself, feeling I was losing perspective with my criticisms. It’s her first book. Of course her writing is going to contain those things. My first book does.

Four books in, I’m confident I’ve improved on at least some of those pitfalls. By the tenth book I’ll be even better. By the twentieth I hope to have hit my stride. By my fiftieth, good writing should be like breathing.

The end product stands as a test of my efforts, but the efforts need to be appreciated for themselves. I need to live in the moment and feel the rush of expressing that idea that absorbs me; the birth of that perfect phrase from my brain to the page that sets up the drama, moves the plot, creates the climax, makes the impact. The process is a  nanosecond of enlightenment, but its result lives on long after the fact. The sheer eloquence of that union is humbling.

So, Book Five: What exactly is that woman doing with a briefcase handcuffed to her wrist? Guess I’ll have to write and find out.

Comments are closed.