THE PAST THREE months have been the most productive and creative of my life.
That might not be reflected on this little blog, but behind the scenes, and under the cover of the Colombian Sun, I’ve cranked up my writing.
Three books are in the pipeline for 2016. A lifelong goal of having something tangible in my hands that I’ve created and can share with others is something I’ve wanted since I was a wee boy.
I’ll be revealing a little more in the coming days and weeks about the type of novels I’ve created but I’m REALLY excited with the products which I’m determined to make the best they can be, including hiring and recruiting Professional Editors, Cover Illustrators, Reviewers, Proofreaders and over £1000 (per book!) spent to ensure that I put my best foot forward, stepping into the world of self-publishing.
The unusual problem I’ve had in the past few weeks is that my characters are talking back to me.
For instance, there’s a librarian who has been locked inside my head since 2004. Before I drift off at night, he tosses and turns me, explaining his motives and actions, suggesting a change in narrative from the one I had already written for him.
Recently, a parish priest has taken up residency. He’s much nicer, more respectful of my sleeping pattern and leaves me alone at night. They don’t talk to one another. Both have difference stories to tell.
But, what they do share is an ability to talk the hind legs off a donkey.
The chamber in my mind is like a waiting room in a doctor’s. I’m the doctor whose job it is to treat each one, successfully cure them (and remove them from my head).
Some patients are hypochondriacs. They come back again and again no matter how much reassurance I offer. Sweating over every little plot hole and knot which I try to reassure them that I already have covered.
They’re never satisfied until I actually write the damn thing down on paper, sometimes at 4 or 5 a.m. in the morning to gauge their opinion, which isn’t always receptive.
Some of my patients are background characters – peripheral to the story. Like the hypochondriacs, they think their indigestion is God tapping at their heart, and implore that I give them more attention.
Two of the three completed books were in the last four months which entailed twelve hour days, every day. The patient room was pretty frenzied at one point but I’m glad to say that, even though I’ve been understaffed, I’ve managed to deal with most of the genuine concerns.
Book 1 (Pathfinders) took a decade to finish – something called a ‘job’ got in the way of that one. That survived the Editor scalpel quite well but was still a really painful birth. March is the mooted date for her release into society.
A main reason I came to Colombia (where I’m currently self-unemployed) is because my humble savings could help finance this dream, knowing full well that when I return to the rat race, I won’t have anywhere near as much time again to indulge in my passion.
I just hope the voices are gone by that stage!
 
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image credit favim.com, boldomatic.com