Progress Update 1: Observation
While I haven't been giving Observation as much TLC as I feel I should have been over the past half a year, I still wanted to make sure I shared a quick update on the progress so far just in case anyone has been wanting to keep track of the process with me. I wish I had better news, but the hardest part of accountability is being honest about your shortcomings.
The unfortunate reality here is I've only managed to tack on another 4k words since my initial update. There has been much more progress than just the final word count being put into this title since then, but nothing that helps move the story forward. I've added more specific terminology for some of the concepts in the world I'm building, written out sheets for about half of the important characters that describes everything from their physical appearance to their motivations to their backstories and more. Having these things written down in such a concrete way for reference will help keep myself wrangled and consistent over the process, something I think I overlooked on my first shelved project.
Even with so much behind the scenes work on the project, I'm also balls deep in climbing over another obstacle to forward momentum: changing everything written from present to past tense. It started as a, "What if I give the story a quick once over to remember what seeds I've already planted," to, "Oh no, this reads way better in past tense than how I've written it already in present." I guess it's a blessing in disguise that I figured this out at the 16k mark. After all, this little side project does give me the excuse to review and adapt the first few chapters so I can move the story forward fluidly.
I had about 13,000 words written on this project in November of last year, so knowing that I've only gotten to 17,000 to date is the proof in the pudding of how long I sat on this without any movement whatsoever. Proof of how many days, weeks, even months that I left Scrivener closed without so much as a passing glance at my story. For a long time I struggled to find a way to feel okay about myself knowing how much more I feel I should be accomplishing, but I finally found a framing that lets me keep everything in perspective a little better.
Sometimes, I think of my brain as an endless sea.
The boat I row is my shelter where I contemplate, navigate, write, and rest.
The water is the endless source of creation where ideas can form without limit.
And me? I'm the vessel that balances the needs of the two. Just as no one can survive on only reckless creativity without follow through, neither can we be fulfilled with mere survival.
The conditions of this ocean can be serene and crystal-clear or violent and murky; ankle deep or practically bottomless. Iceberg-esk concepts can tease me, letting just the peak of a potential publication pop out of the surface only for the complexity of the story to run my ship aground from underneath. Ideas can breach the water like wildlife gasping for air then disappear fathoms below in moments. I can fish or trap or swim through the waters, returning to my boat with fresh fodder for yarns yet to be spun.
But on the waves of artistry, there's no shore to seek; no home to return to as respite from the briny depths. The life of an artist is one that exists fully and inescapably in the throws of creativity.
Whether you try to stay dry above the waves or spend your time below the surface, inspiration will force you to heed its message. Hide in the boat and you'll come to be malnourished; stay under too long and breath will escape your lungs. The monsoons can flip your boat and tumble you into the water when you're starving, the current can push you back to your boat when you wander too far.
I feel as if my boat is so heavy from the half-formed plots of untold tales that I have to make room in order to pick up anything else. And the fact of the matter is, the only way to clear some space is to finish some of these projects so I have the bandwidth to dedicate to more.
For a while, I felt so overwhelmed by Observation that I tossed it back into the sea only to see it float beside the boat, following in my wake as I tried to abandon it. I jumped in and forced it under, trapping it in the nooks and crannies of a coral reef just for the clownfish to swim it back beside me by morning. The ocean has told me in no uncertain terms that this story won't leave until it's ready.
And so I push forward. I dangle my legs out the side of my boat, water lapping over my feet as the gentle waves lazily rock me to sleep. To let me dream of the next event, the next conflict, the next decision that will propel my book toward resolution.
The only limitations in writing are the ones you impose on yourself and your story. I may know the finale of Observation, but who knows what ripples will crash over the story by then. I hope once the storm settles, you'll be floating alongside me.