Writing more of the Seers sequel was my goal all weekend... but I found myself quite stuck by early Sunday. It perplexed, then frustrated, then stumped me, wondering why on earth the process was bumming me out so much. Then it occured to me.
The book is depressing.
I mean, not constantly. Not every scene, every line. There's comedic relief throughout, but the overall story is a darker one than the first book. It's a more relatable experience, lighter on the mysticism, heavier on the humanity. And I just love my paranormal adventures, so keeping the focus on a protagonist who is living a very difficult, very non-fanciful kind of journey has been hard on me. I've found myself getting just as depressed as she is, and even more impatient. Holding off on a happy ending sucks. I'm SO ready for one. lol.
Anyway, so there I was, staring down the manuscript like Clint Eastwood in a drawing match, complete with Western music in the background, and feeling mightily intimidated. Honestly, I was ready to just shrivel into a ball and hide in bed. No author aqui!!
But, damnit, no. It's my belief that this sequel is purposely making me work. It's saying, listen, you, the first one came too easy. This time, you're going to have to struggle, just like your characters. You're going to have to be patient, just like your characters. You're going to have to suffer the dark times, just like your characters. And then, in the end, it'll feel like you've really come through an epic storm and have something to show for it... just like your bloody characters.
Sigh. Writing a book teaches you something about yourself. And this one is teaching me a lot about perseverance, faith, and the value of a more human experience.