FEAR

Achievemephobia

Sounds fake doesn’t it? The fear of success. Who in their right mind would fear such a thing? Well therein lies the issue, it’s an irrational fear and by definition, if you have it, you aren’t in your “right mind”. It’s a new one I’ve discovered that I have. I’m close, so burningly, ball-achingly close to finishing the steampunk series. There is but a heartbeat, a few pages, some mere explosive splurges of imagination onto the page remaining before I can call this series complete. And yet these last few chapters have taken longer and longer to pen. It’s not that I don’t know what to write – I’ve had the ending plotted out for some time now. It isn’t that I don’t have the motivation to write. It is that I have a fear of finishing.

To a writer, their books are like children. We give birth, nurture them to maturity, provide them with everything they require to gain life and then at some point we let them go out into the world. Just like a parent does with their grown children, we can check in on them periodically, see how they are doing, maybe give them a boost (think marketing) to help them out once in a while, but really, they are beyond our reach. We have done all we can, and can only hope that they don’t fall over so far that they never get up again. Is this the reason I’m struggling to write these last few pages? Probably.

There are other factors to consider. What do I do once I’m finished? Well, I have my other series of course, and I intend to write many more things, but there is no doubt that this epic monstrosity of a world that I’ve created will leave a gaping hole in my life when I have no reason to go back and visit it any more.

I don’t want to let go.

I don’t want to finish the series. I’m afraid of losing it.

Just like a reader who falls in love with the characters in a book – so to have I fallen in love with these products of my imagination. I don’t want to say goodbye to Larissa and Holt. I think I might cry when I write the last few paragraphs containing Cid. I can’t let go, and some part of me is fighting back, drawing out the process. I’m like a mother standing at the school gate for hours after my kid has gone inside. It hurts to say goodbye.

So to any fellow writers who have found themselves in the same position, please let me know how you cope with such a loss when your books are done? Because right now, I need some reassurance that I’m not going to end up curled in a ball screaming “I CAN WRITE BOOK FIVE”…

I really need to finish this series, and quick!

Write on! 

The War - Out 15th May 2016

As a little treat, today I'm sharing an excerpt of my new book, The War, book 3 in the Blood and Destiny series, an epic steampunk action adventure story.

Pre-orders available here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01EG1L4H6

And for an extra special treat, book one in the series, The Machine, is FREE

This offer won't last long so grab yourself a copy quick!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01B43XF08

Larissa awoke with a snort. She wiped the trail of drool across her face with the back of her hand and sat up. Her head pounded with an unfamiliar ache. As she rubbed her temples with her fingertips, groaning at the sensation, she came back to full awareness and to the reality that she was not alone.

She looked up to find Kerrigan slumped in the Captain’s chair, his boots up on the desk. He stared at her with dark eyes, the flecks of grey through his short black mop of hair glistening in the gentle cabin candlelight.

“Morning,” he said with about as much charm and cheer as an undertaker addressing a corpse.

“Is it?” She wiped a second line of drool away as she looked around the cabin for any sign of morning. The small pair of round windows at one end appeared to be painted black.

“You know you snore?” Kerrigan said as he changed his legs around, crossing the left over the right and keeping his boots on the desk.

“I do not snore. What are you doing in here?”

“You snore and you drool. It’s not particularly attractive.”

“Well, I’m very sorry you’re not seeing me at my best, Mister Kerrigan.” She rubbed her head again, trying to push away the pain of too much sleep.

“I’m still a Colonel, Miss Markus. Does Holt appreciate your drooling?”

Her hands fell from her face and she gripped the edge of the bed. Holt. The ache in her head instantly sank straight to her heart. It hurt, like taking an arrow in the chest. The cabin disappeared into a haze and she focused on the last image of him, leaving her alone, yet again. She wished he were here right now, if for no other reason than to give Kerrigan another pummelling.

“I let you escape, didn’t I? Why are you being such an ass?” she said, trying desperately to push Holt from her thoughts.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Kerrigan finally took his boots off the desk and sat upright.

“What does it matter to you?” Larissa stood and grabbed the pitcher of water off the desk, taking a large gulp straight from it instead of pouring some into a cup.

“It’s nice to know I don’t have to keep looking over my shoulder anymore. That’s rude, you know. Other people might want to drink some.”

Without thinking, she swallowed half the mouthful and promptly spat the remaining water back into the jug, then slammed it back on the desk and fixed Kerrigan with a dark glare.

He opened his mouth to speak, then promptly snapped it shut again as the door opened. Larissa straightened her back and felt her bones give a satisfying crack as Elena entered the room followed by Cid and the ship’s Captain.

“Larissa, Colonel.” Elena nodded to them both. The Captain marched straight behind his desk and pointed his finger at Kerrigan, flicking it side to side. Kerrigan promptly stood and vacated the seat as directed.

Larissa opened her mouth to speak, intending to ask what was going on and why no one had spoken to her in two days, then changed her mind. The memory of a guard smacking her around the head for speaking out of turn flooded back just in time.

“We will arrive in the Capital Eudonin soon,” Elena said as she picked a glass from the tray and poured a measure of water into it. Larissa glanced over at Kerrigan, who appeared to chew on his lip, and she couldn’t help but do the same. “You will all be taken directly to the Empress for further discussion and consideration. I have come here this morning to teach the three of you some manners. My sister isn’t as amenable as I am, and if you set a foot wrong, you’ll find yourselves in our dungeons…at best.”

“At best?” Cid said with a look of horror on his face.

“Don’t worry, Mister Mendle. If you follow my instructions, you’ll do fine.”

Despite Elena’s crooning assurances, Cid’s expression did not settle. Elena took a delicate sip from her glass. Larissa pursed her lips as she tried to suppress the childish giggle that threatened to burst.