I'm sitting on my living room couch, drinking my morning coffee, listening to Margot & The Nuclear So and So's "Happy Hour at Sprigg's Vol. 1," my thoughts lost in the book I just wrote. I finished the first edit last night, about midnight, and then attempted to sleep with all that in my head.
There's a fever in writing, an urgency to create, to give of yourself, to just get it all down on paper. It takes an emotional toll, and once it's all spent, once you've given every single ounce of yourself for the sake of the story, there's this void that settles in. This need to start all over again. This urge to chase the high of creation.
I experienced this the first time I wrote a book, and with every single book I've written after that. It certainly wasn't something I was ever warned about, or given any advice on how to handle. So how do you balance something like that? How do you deal with all of that fake emotion while still existing in a very real world?
The best advice I can give you is, as long as life allows it, keep writing. Keep creating. Keep making. Because that drive is a very special thing that few possess, and ignoring it is akin to taking advantage of it. Some writers get so caught up in the finished product—the mythical unicorn of publication. But there is so much more to writing than just seeing your name in print. There is the every day of it, the walking around with a story stuck in your head, the endless need to obsess over plot, character development, and how you're going to end the damned thing. That's the reality of being a writer, and it isn't always easy.
Art is emotional, draining, exhausting. It will take everything out of you without apology. But there is satisfaction in penning a novel that is beyond compare. What I get out of it, what you'll get out of it if you but sit down and try, is its own unmatched reward.
Margot & The Nuclear So and So's
Will You Love Me Forever?