I started on book four yesterday. It’s amazing to try to wrap my mind around that. I’m moving into the final third of the series, and for the first time since this whole process began, I can see the finish line. While book five is still a ways off, I can now see it clearly as the story unfolds, and my original vision for the overall plot structure is now coming into focus.
For me, starting a new book is a blend of excitement, apprehension, enthusiasm, and anxiety. The excitement comes from delving into new territory. The apprehension stems from fear of losing focus on the bigger work or forgetting a small detail from the earlier books. The enthusiasm flows from the acts of discovery that make writing so much fun. The anxiety creeps in from an underlying fear that somehow the tank has run dry, the creativity is gone, and the words have evaporated. I’m not certain if others share this amalgam of emotions, but for me, they are real and sometimes overpowering.
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