Last night husband accused me of procrastinating. Apparently I have all the classic symptoms of it, and my cries of denial didn’t seem to help.
Here’s the thing, I have a book idea. We both think it’d be fun and interesting and I would love to be able to write it. And I think about it all the time. The characters. Plot and subplot. I know what I want to put into the prologue and epilogue. How the characters would relate and interact. How the chapters would be laid out. What the mystery and intrigue would be to keep you wanting to read ‘just one more chapter’ before bed.
Then I try to work out the timeline. Do you realize how much the world has changed in the last 40ish years? A LOT. And it all matters. It doesn’t matter if major events are mentioned specifically (like the civil rights movement, or WWII), but those major events shaped the world in which some of these stories happen. And those events shape the characters who live in these worlds. Throw in something like the foster care system, and everything goes crazy.
Research. Outline. Character Studies. And maybe a little bit of writing. Hopefully someday it’ll all come together.
Oh and did I mention I’m thinking of starting a cooking blog?