Finishing a book brings odd feelings. First you hope your editor forgives any typos throughout, and then you hope you served the characters well. Did they end up where they hoped? Was justice served? Did insight happen? Will my readers be entertained? And last of all...is it a banger? ;)
This past six months was the longest time I have spent writing a book, and since my beautiful editor gave me time and space to write the book, I wrote what I wanted to read. Having the extra time allowed to keep working the day job, develop a TV series, and care for my family through a tough year. This book ended up becoming an escape for me from the above life, which is what books should be, and I don't think it doesn't matter if you write them or read them as long as they take you away.
Ten minutes after finished the book, I messaged Dave, and my agent to say I'd delivered a healthy 410-page book named Daphné Le Marche, I sat and thought, 'what next?'
I am supposed to have another one in the planning stages, but I don't know what the story is yet, or any characters, nor a setting. So basically, I don't have a book but I don't want to be too pedantic about it.
I need to refill the well of creativity. Yes, that sound very pretentious, but think of it like a craft box filled with gorgeous scraps of loveliness and bits of pleasure. My pandora's box is empty and I have to replenish the vessel.
How do I do that?
Yep. I will read between 8-10 books between now and the New Year. I will read the backlog of magazines sitting on my iPad, waiting to be opened. I will read poetry, and revisit old journals of ideas. I will look at Pinterest, and Tumblr and visit libraries. I will reread childhood classics. I've had a yearning to reread The Secret of Spiggy Holes, which belonged to my Mum.
I'm going to wait to see who wants me to tell their story and then I will get cracking again. Bring it on.
2016 is going to be exciting in a good way. I can feel it in my waters.