I’ve debated whether or not to write something this week after the last two weeks of info-dumping about myself, which is always nerve-wracking. Well, I couldn’t help it–staring at a computer screen full of unfinished wips versus completing a blog post? Why not actually finish writing something for a change, duh.
Anyways.
It’s kind of funny talking about my wips here because I realised I haven’t really talked that I’m a writer on this blog. (Maybe except for that long rant post in Japanese that I was too tired to translate some months ago…)
Since my last blog was focused on “Becoming an Author,” I had an unconscious vow within me that I had to deconstruct that identity. I know, I’m sounding like those CRT scholars who I poke in my leisure time. But in all honesty, I’d become pretty lost after realising that I was okay with not being published as a “young author.” (Not sure what the age restriction is, but I’m guessing that’s not over fifty–not saying I’m fifty, but still.) Unbeknownst to me, I’d become pressured watching many blogger friends pursuing writing as a career, either full time or part time, in what I now consider to be a trend back in 2020. Now that I look back, I do think those days were fun–we had writing buddies, monthly challenges, writing forums, etc., etc. Yet I knew, down in my heart, that as much as I loved writing, I didn’t want to publish at this stage of life when my writing style wasn’t as established as I wanted it to be. I wanted to be a big letter “Author,” the kind who people kept reading thirty, fifty years after they died. I didn’t want to be just some “author.”
Wow. That was embarrassing.
I hope that you’ll forgive me for being brutally honest. To actually state what I meant earlier, I wanted to clarify in the most straightforward sense possible. I’m okay with not being published now. Perhaps I’ll never be published. But as long as I write something, anything, that reaches someones’ soul, I’m okay with it.
That aside, I do want to share my wips so far. A lot of them are unfinished, as you can see, and I have this terrible habit of starting a new story before I finish one…
| Title | Status | Genre |
|---|---|---|
| Juliet (tbd) | 0.5 ~ 1.5 draft =158K, re-working 15.7K…10 yrs | YA, sci-fi |
| Woodstone Abbey | 155.7K, 0.5 drafting…4 yrs | fantasy, academia |
| Osthauptstadt | 53K, 0.5 drafted…3 yrs | YA, dystopian |
| Elijacomb Alexei the 17th | 33K, 0.5 drafting…2.5 yrs | juvenile fiction, sci-fi |
| TEMOP | 11K, 0.5 drafting…2.5 yrs | YA, dystopian |
| Elektriem | 38K, 1.5 draft, re-working…5.5 yrs | YA, sci-fi |
| Iron Blood | 0K, planning…3 yrs | sci-fi |
| Of Darkness Leashed | 0K, planning…1 yr | Dark academia, fantasy |
| Cambria (tbd) | 4K, 0.5 draft…2.5 yrs | YA, Urban fantasy |
| Of Cats and Alchemists | 0K, brainstorming…3.8 yrs | YA, fantasy-sci-fi? |
| The Homeschoolers United | 9.2K, 0.5. draft…1.5 yrs | juvenile fiction |
And that’s the complete list of 11 wips I have so far. I have about thirty other half-baked ideas I list as dust-bunnies and keep in a basket of would-be-wips, but that’s too much to list. These wips are in various stages of work, ranging from unwritten to written thrice over. What unites these wips are that they are the more “serious” wips that I’ve either plotted or fleshed out the characters enough for them to be written, if I was forced to on gun-point.
The only work that I can call somewhat finished is Osthauptstadt, which I finished exactly three years ago. The next closest to being finished is Elijacomb, which I’d been writing in April~May and have paused briefly to take a break.
The two major works I’ve been working on for a long time and have used significant brainpower are Juliet and Woodstone. Juliet is one of my first wips, ever, which is probably the reason it’s bound to fail–or should I say, would require great effort to make it work. Woodstone, at the moment, is my magnum opus. It’s long, it’s convoluted, and half the time I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing with it, but I know that when I finish it (note: not if), it will be great.
The thing is to finish it.
Which, most writers know, is the most challenging part of writing.
For today, I just wanted to get it out there, that I write. I write, write, and then write some more. There seems to be a desperation inside me that forces me on to write.
But in the end, there’s no end if I look at the number of books and authors out there. There’s no end to the stories I would write. Ultimately, there’s only one Book that matters, and one Author who can write our stories.
If I can reflect that in my stories, that’s the best I can do.
少数派。 