It always feels like it's never going to happen. Like that moment doesn't really exist. It's a pipe dream, a fantasy, an unreachable destination. Like trying to peer into the future and see yourself there. Old and wrinkled. Worn by time and circumstances. Someone who has earned the right to be old. I can never see myself there.
I feel the same way about my children. I see them grow and move forward everyday but imagining them as men, men who are fully grown and not my babies is impossible. That future doesn't exist yet, sure we're walking towards it everyday but I just can't see it.
This is probably a terrible thing to confess. I'm a writer and I spend 99 percent of my time in my head. I live in fantasy worlds where anything is possible...but my boys being men, finishing a novel, growing old. Those are three things I'll never be quite able to fantasize about. It's just too important for daydreams.
Pfft, I did it again. I went off on a tangent of words and sentences when I was supposed to be making this short.
The Otherside is NOT short. It is in fact longer than The Wild Hunt, but for some reason reads shorter. I like to think it's because I'm getting better at this writing business. Of course, I'm sure every writer also has this same shared delusion. I get better every time I write a word upon the page. But is it really a tangible thing. That level of perfection, and improvement.
On a side note, I have started two other projects that are not Lilith. I'm not sure what's holding me back from finishing that story but I can't touch it...not yet. Maybe I like delayed gratification...as a puzzle even to myself who fucking knows.
So the two new projects:
Bad Witch, a prequel to The Wild Hunt about how Pillar meets Gideon.
Bite Camp, a sequel to The Wild Hunt that takes place when Jen is away during the summer at a camp to learn to control her shifts. Greene is also involved, really its about their budding forbidden romance.
The Otherside is finished!!!
It's still so unbelievable. Who would have known that almost seven years ago that I would meet the love of my life, have the balls to start writing, be a mother for a second time, and actually write four novels? I sure as hell didn't but here I am. I'd pat myself on the back if it wasn't so ridiculous. I am a writer.
Word Count: 127,109