In this post, I mentioned that I had started writing a new novel. And I’m excited.
It feels different to all the other stories I’ve written; but then again, starting a new project usually does. There are so many possibilities. It’s the feeling that this could be the one! But part of me really does believe that this time.
So far, I’ve written a novel, I’ve written a novella, I’ve written short stories. But this is my second novel. And it’s different to the others. I’m focusing on childhood and family dynamics and how things change but that can be good sometimes. I’m writing about how I feel.
I’ve discussed my first novel in depth before, so I won’t go into it now in length. (You can read about it here though.) But it was very healing for me and felt like a God-thing. But I also made it very ~dramatic~ because I thought people only needed healing from big, traumatic events. I thought I had to write about death and tragedy in order to write about redemption and freedom.
Now I know otherwise. Because I have become free of things that may seem ‘small’ to others. I have had to forgive myself and forgive others of ‘inconsequential’ actions and events.
Everyone matters and what’s happened to us all in the past is important, no matter if it seems intense or not.
I’m not at the stage of having the whole story outlined yet. Over the past couple of weeks I’ve simply been writing a few paragraphs at a time, often disconnected, but knowing they’ll fit together when I map it out.
NaNoWriMo is something I’ve loved doing in the past, so even though I may not take part properly this year, as I have uni in November, I may use the inspiration to properly outline my novel and see if I can turn my paragraphs into a larger story.
As I said, I’m excited. It’s an exciting process.
I have a take-home exam to do this weekend (which I was working on before I started writing this post), but then I’m on uni holidays for a month. I’m already motivated to spend large chunks of time writing like I used to, and even the past two weeks I’ve given myself the evenings to get started on this new novel, and it’s been wonderful. I’d almost forgotten what it was to lose yourself in a story, to write down something that you’re proud of. To let yourself be creative and just write and get out all those thoughts that have been crowding your mind.
The last few months have been a weird time for me. They’ve been difficult, emotional, confusing, growing. But I feel a new season is in the making, and to be able to write in this transitioning time has been so necessary, and an absolute joy. I’m reminded of what brings me peace. I’m reminded of what brings life and purpose. My writing has always felt like a spiritual process, like a gift from God, and I’m reminded that He has given me all the words I need. He has given me a story to tell.
So here I am, starting to write it.