Finished 2.0

(Note: I wrote this Thursday, and today is Sunday. I never had a chance to get this posted and finalized, so my apologies on the lateness. Also, it just goes to show how crappy I am with deadlines. I really need to work on that, and maybe consider another blog about it!)

Last night, it happened. After four months of procrastinating and yammering on and on about it, I finally sat down and finished my major edit, my second draft if you will, of The Third Tower. I only had two chapters remaining, yet for some reason, I wouldn’t do it.

A big part of it was due to time. I know, I know, a real writer prioritizes writing above all. Unfortunately, life happens and it’s not necessarily possible to sit down and focus. But this isn’t the time to split hairs and point fingers—it’s done!

It’s funny because a week prior–Halloween, in fact–I had this feeling of dread. Not that the Devil was going to come and kill me or whatever it is they think happens unless I give small children crappy candy, but for this novel. I had a very small number of chapters left to edit, and felt that I had to get them done without question. I hurried over to Biggby and goofed off for a while (actually paying bills) before I finally buckled down and did all of two chapters.

But I did them! And I felt great. I also felt like shit because I had hoped to get everything done, not just two. Still, it was an effort, and every little bit helped. If I had stayed at home and gave kids candy, none of that would be done. So, to all the neighborhood kids (and the kids from other crappy neighborhoods that don’t give out anything other than grief), I apologize that you were cheated of one single Twizzler or Jolly Rancher. I genuinely hope that your holiday and subsequently your life haven’t been ruined all thanks to me. Just know that I had important business to attend to, and I can gleefully write this blog knowing that my major task is completed.

Now, I have time to do all sorts of other stuff I’ve wanted to do. Not outside of writing; I’ve been doing all that all along (like the newest expansion for Star Wars Destiny: Across the Galaxy–a great set of cards!). No, I mean writing-wise. I’ve got story ideas. I have my next novel to work on. There’s even a webcomic I’m dabbling with. Who knows, maybe I’ll even get into assignment writing?

Years and years of repressed and ignored feelings have been surfacing, though. I’m not sure why, but all of a sudden, these past few months, I feel like everything is imploding on me. Fortunately, I’m able to see signs and I know to get the help I need. Not everyone has a support system, unfortunately, and not everyone is able to see that something is wrong—they just accept it for what is, and live with it until the worst happens.

I’m actually happy I’ve noticed this. I feel like writing, like I have so much to say—not just on the topic of my own mental health, but just in general. I don’t feel like a simple idea is a bad one. I don’t feel like I’m wasting time by writing basic stuff, stories and shorts that don’t accomplish much of anything. Somehow, making an appointment with a therapist has liberated me, and I don’t want to allow myself to be constrained by what I think or assume might be a dumb idea.

As many times as I say I’m excited for the future, nothing much comes of it. This time, I’m not sure anything different will happen. What I do know, however, is that I won’t be so depressed and negative about it anymore. Like I said earlier, life happens, and in some odd way, I’m okay with that.

Now, in addition to working on all of these new stories and edits, I’ve got to find a professional editor. Anyone know someone good, but inexpensive?