Sunday, February 10, 2013

So, I wrote a book

At this moment of writing, I’ve mailed what is hopefully my final edition of the manuscript to my proofreader, leaving myself behind with a strange feeling of emptiness. For the uninitiated, in the coming week (hopefully) my first published eBook will hit the shelves, in what is hopefully a long line of great English fantasy stories.
It is a strange feeling which is, essentially, bittersweet. Sweet, because the idea originally bloomed back in 2002, on a stairway in Italy where I had the idea for the first sentence; “There were stars. Lots of them.” 

Somehow, I just knew I was supposed to write a story from that. Which has now happened, after so many years, still with the original sentence in the first chapter.

But it is also bitter, because self-criticism is an eternal nemesis haunting so many creative souls, before, during and after the process. In this regard, Pandegnomium has been a rather long process. One thing is having the idea back in 2002; watching your story change drastically as it moves along is another one entirely. When Stephen King wrote that a book could be done in three to four months (I believe he said so, at least) I found it amusing, but at this stage I see wisdom in the notion. Because your story is changing emotionally, structurally and content-wise compared to what rummages around in the author’s head.

Thus, Pandegnomium began as a happy and quite wild tale with no less than five main characters, six characters that might as well be main characters and three antagonists whose ambitions were clear as mud. As time went by, the story changed, especially when I wrote the English edition. Now there were only three main character and a strange lack of a mastermind behind the evil scenes.

The bottom line for this passage is how my story reflects a long development. It shows, and from the view of an author it is an interesting and unexpected boon from the hard work. Some would say it’s a pseudo-diary.

But does that make up for a good story?

I hold my breath and hope.

Till then it is worth noticing how wonderful it is to look back at something you wrote; I imagine it’s more profound regarding fiction. It’s also an encouragement to everyone out there, who’ve locked away their ideas in the mental drawers. Get writing.

The process is peculiar, to say the least, and far less mechanic than just throwing words at a page. When the universe has attached itself to you with its splendor and you feel fascinated by that which you have written several weeks ago, you understand. Therein lies the magic and the amazing in writing, for me at least. Everyone can try to imagine how it is to have written a book, some way or the other, but it’s hard to truly fathom till you’ve been there.

Thus I encourage everyone with an ambition to just write a small story. Once the hindering shackles were discarded, writing has been a liberating and fantastic process for me that I will never regret.

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