Writing the Wrong Dang Thing

It's been, I have to say, a long time since I've really felt inspired for an extended period of time. The last time was through the entire latter half of Sylv Vol II in early-to-mid 2020, and it got me through most of that novel and The Unpleasantness.

Since then, it's been... quiet. My progress through Untitled City Novel has been a sort of inconsistent plod - I'm enjoying it, sure, but it's not quite hit the same. There have been other brief flashes of inspiration for other stories or art projects, but nothing lasting more than a few days and a chapter's worth or a single page of art.

That changed about two months ago, when I fairly spontaneously allowed myself to write half a short introductory chapter to a story that has been bouncing around my head for a few years, but which I very intentionally had not been focusing on yet. There are other stories more prescient to tell that are already underway; this one could wait.

But then, very abruptly, it couldn't wait. It had to be told right now, and it was ready and it was not waiting for permission.

I ended up writing fifteen chapters in the space of about six weeks, varying between a chapter every few days, and two chapters a day. Every time I thought the flow had ended and the spigot had sputtered dry, more would gush forth. It consumed me. I had to make the playlist for it; if I sat down I had to write it; my gym sessions and dog walks and drives to work were dedicated to it. I indulged it for the first week, then it just didn't stop and so I tried to make it stop, re-reading recent chapters of City and changing my listening habits, but that didn't help at all. It just left me creatively frustrated and resentful of the other things I was "supposed" to be creating.

So, I cut myself some slack. We missed a week of Sylvpod again, sorry, and I left City for a while. I appreciated the creative flow while it lasted, revelled in how competent and comfortable writing felt, how easy inspiration came. Of course, it did eventually dry up, and that's okay.

It's okay to just have a nice diversion sometimes. There is a long, long slog left of City - finishing the first draft; many more months of editing and reviewing; probably a complete re-write of some substantial chunks; and then the slow build of titles, blurbs, covers, and promotion. I couldn't live without it, of course, but something gentler is nice sometimes.

It's okay to wander down the easy road for a while, I guess. You do not have to repent for happiness.