And that date would be my debut book launch. And not just a few days or months. Whole years. Like two of them. Ooops.
After all, the website proudly proclaims that the first novel in the series, Darkness Becoming, will be released Summer 2013. That date is now long gone. And I’m not done. Not even remotely. And I’m pretty positive Darkness Becoming won’t even be the first book anymore. And The Destined Revolutions’ website is gone. And I haven’t put it back up. I know. I’m a terrible human being.
And I have every excuse in the book for why it’s not done. Here they are in no particular order:
1. The dog ate it.* I swear she did! That girl eats everything!**
2. I fell into a hole and I think I’m in some alternate dimension that actively prevents you from finishing books. I’m telling you, there’s some kind of weird force field here that keeps you from writing.
3. My computer blew up. (Well, it did. But I have a new one. So, I guess that’s not all that valid.)
4. I have an unhealthy obsession with Joss Whedon. Which lead me to…
5. An unhealthy obsession with the complete and total wrongness that is Netflix. It’s turned our society into a bunch of binge watching zombies. Or maybe it’s just me. I mean, they make it so easy to just sit there staring at a screen for hours, probably even weeks at a time.
6. My ultimate confession: I have this unbelievable urge to have a roof over my head and wear clothes and well, eat from time to time. These crazy urges lead me to have a job. I know, you’re stunned and horrified. Perhaps I should have warned you to sit down. I’m disgusted with myself, but it’s an addiction. You have no idea how much time this addiction saps from writing.
7. My characters left me. I have no idea what I did to offend them. They kind of wander in and out at will. Sometimes, they’ll sit down and stare at me blankly. I try to have conversations with them and they shrug apathetically.
8. I can’t find the words. I tried searching in the sofa, but all I turned up was some loose change, a few M&M’s and something I’m not sure I want to figure out what it is.
9. Life always seems to fall down and go boom.
10. I was kidnapped by operatives who insisted they would let me go only after I had given them the Caramilk secret.***
But if you want to know the truth of the matter, it’s really because of every reason that every writer faces: writer’s block, time, full-time job, family issues, friends and having even an teeny-tiny social life, household chores, needing a little bit of down time from it all and unhealthy obsessions with cult t.v. shows. It’s been a crazy two years on the life front.
If you want to dig deeper into my psyche, it’s probably all the self-doubts that we writers face about not being good enough. I have fantastic ideas and I have been working on the overall story itself, it just hasn’t jelled into a cohesive or remotely readable or understandable novel. The story I thought was so amazing and had me on a serious nerd-high two years ago has left me doubtful and scared that it’s just not good enough for public consumption. The last thing I want to do is waste anyone’s time with something that’s sub-standard. And so it remains in its ether-like state, floating in my brain, with me only able to catch snippets of it here and there.
So I hope you’ll forgive me for not delivering on my promise. I’m trying to be better.
* A friend told me that “I don’t have time” is the adult version of “The dog ate my homework”.
** No she doesn’t. She only eats stuff if it’s food or the little plastic ends on shoelaces.
*** I actually used this as an excuse for being late for a high school history class. Our teacher insisted we give reasons for showing up for class late. “Because I didn’t get here on time” wasn’t sufficient.