On Writing A Book


When I sat down to write the first words of my new book, I went blank.

As blank as blank can get.

The page looked at me with monstrous intentions. It taunted me. Mocked me.

For a week it stared at me, daring me to put one word on the page. Knowing that one word would quickly be erased. The blankness consuming once again.

What changed that?

Honestly, I don’t know. I just sat down one day and started writing. I wrote as much as I could in one day. Something in the realm of ten thousand words. Of which, nearly fifty percent were deleted in the first rounds of edits.

The other half were cut in half again during the second round.

In the end what was 30,000 words were dwindled down to just over 10,000. That in addition to the twenty patterns I had to design.

Don’t get me started on those.




I’ll tell you that story another day.