Writing Buffet

Now we come to a weird thing in a writer’s life.

When you finish a big project, as I just finished a novel a few weeks ago, you know that the worst thing you can do is embark on another long project. You need to recharge your batteries.

Ah, but the writer is an eternal student, and if I am not working on something every night, I feel like I am failing in my avocation.

When I come to the end of a novel, and I reread and revise, then put away for a few weeks to make sure I don’t miss anything, I have to start thinking about the many small projects I began but never ended.

I have about six Minerva short stories which sit in my shipyard, their wooden skeletons exposed to the elements, waiting for the crew to show up and finish them. I already know how most of them will end, but I can’t seem to summon the energy to get them done.

Similarly, I have several short stories that need to be finished. “Need,” being the operative word–none of them “need” to be finished, as no editor is patiently waiting for their completion. The “need” is completely in my psyche.

Of course, there are a few lighter projects that I could recommence. I have a memoir about when I was fired as a lawyer in 2018. I have 8000 words on that project but seem to have little enthusiasm for completing that. I don’t really want to relive that experience.

I have a thriller–not something I’m used to writing, but it came to me one day and I got 8000 words into it before stalling.

Oh, and I have another mystery, called “The Red-Tailed Hawk,” which I’m about 8000 words into.

I wonder if you notice the pattern here.

Who knows. Likely I will get some crazy idea and start following it like a hound dog on the trail of the fox. Whether I’ll catch that fox is another matter entirely.

It’s like a buffet. A lot of things look good and I might add them to my plate. But if I put too much on the plate, my belly will not be happy.

But it’s better than having nothing on the food line at all.