And I don’t quite remember why. The only logical conclusion is that I was kidnapped by faeries when I was sleeping last night. Yes, this is why. I have accepted this as the only reason why I’m covered in glitter.
SO THEN, it’s been a while since any semblance of updates have come from the upside-down world of RK, and the reason behind this is because… well, I didn’t have any updates. ‘Tis true, I’ve been squirreled away in my little world of magic and mayhem, and mostly forgotten that there’s a whole world out there.
Well, in the past two weeks, I’ve been sent the first few pages of edits back from Sara, my lovely publisher, and we have both agreed that the release date needs to be pushed back a little. This is mostly due to the fact that I have had a grand total of zero experience in the world of creative writing. By that, I mean I’ve been on no courses, achieved no awards, and spoken to no editors in my entire life. Therefore, I write from the heart, not from the head. Which can be a good thing, but can also be extraordinarily destructive in terms of publication.
Sara describes it thusly; “storytelling is a skill, writing is a talent. You have the skill, but the talent needs polishing.”
So, dear Sara has agreed to set me up with a nice lady who will Skype me to go through a course, of sorts, on creative writing. This way, future manuscripts will need significantly less editing. I’m actually a little ashamed at how much The Old Ways needs to be edited… but, I suppose, as Sara says, this is what Inspired Quill aspires to do. Seek out new blood and mold us into dazzling authors. I want to dazzle. It’s like glittering, but with more jazz hands.
Meanwhile, in Albion, a vicious monster-thief who goes by the name of Writer’s Block has crept into Elphame to cause havoc amongst the citizens. Thankfully, it’s dual-weilding arch-enemies, Coffee and North-East Stubbornness, have prevailed, and the train has continued on its happy track. I think that metaphor ran away with me, but you get the idea. I think I was subconsciously avoiding the moment when I have to kill off a particular character. I really don’t want to do it. Like, really, really don’t want to do it. But needs must.
Oh, Albion, thou art a heartless bitch… that’s all from me for now. If anyone needs me, I’ll be curled up under my blankets, sleeping off a glittery hangover.