I took a break from writing, both in this blog and in XIII (my work in progress, and sometimes the bane of my existence). The main reasons for the break were (1) because I felt like I was running out of blog ideas, and I didn’t want to start repeating myself, and (2) I recently started a new part of XIII.
XIII is probably much longer than it should be (so long that nobody, with the exception of its authors, would want to read it), and it has three main parts, the second of which is actually split into thirteen smaller parts. I finished the millionth draft of the second part on September 1, and finishing the part made me somewhat upset, although I’ve finished the part countless times in years past with varying amounts of relief, happiness, and sadness.
I suppose it’s like when you find a TV series that you really like, and when it ends, you don’t want to watch any other series… at least for a while. Then you have to dust yourself off, wipe away the tears, and find a new obsession.
That’s where the third (and last) part of XIII comes in. In the week I haven’t actually been writing, I’ve been looking over my outline. Filling its pages with illegible notes in the margins. Anticipating things that may go wrong. Searching for plot holes. Already getting irritated at my main character, who can be somewhat of an annoyance (but hopefully he turns himself around by the end). Obsessing and squealing with glee over the chapters I’m looking forward to… you get the picture.
The last part of XIII is going to be 50 chapters long. Not sure how many words that will amount to, but previous drafts were around 100,000, so somewhere around there, I suppose. That’s 50 chapters in which to get re-attached to characters and setting, and I know that by the last chapter, I’ll likely get into a state of sadness until some new obsession (not related to XIII at all) pulls me out.
How do you feel after you finish a piece of writing?