If it weren’t for people in my life urging me not to, I’d probably scrap all 50,000+ words of my novel-in-progress.
There are parts of this book that are magical, that inspire me to keep going, that make my friends smile and want to read more. But for a few months now, I’m just like: where’s this story headed? Why did I start writing it in the first place? What’s it even supposed to be about?
And if there was ever a metaphor for my life right now, I guess that would be it. I’m 25, graduated, working, paying the bills (no small feat in Toronto). But what’s next? Do I settle down here or move on to somewhere new? Continue working one-and-a-half jobs while trying to fit in more creative writing on the side indefinitely?
This adventure in the north, though finally blooming into a lovely experience, has for the most part been long and arduous. And I think when a long, arduous journey starts getting less long and arduous, I start looking for something new—a new challenge. I don’t know how I feel about that…
Your Guess is as Good as Mine
But I do think that sometimes sticking around and being committed to the season and place you’re in can be the greater challenge. (And yes, sometimes it’s time to move on).
So I guess in my book, as in my life, I need to decide which challenge I’m going to step into.
Have you ever found yourself wondering what’s next or wanting to rekindle the passion you had for a project? What did you do?