Writing - The Final Stretch

Well, that was interesting! I just made my podcast debut on the Caffeinated Cryptid Podcast. 

Gulp. It posted yesterday. Have you ever watched yourself talk? It's like looking in a funhouse mirror, but I survived and even felt pretty at ease. Now, fingers crossed, other podcasters will invite me to gab about cryptids.

Research is my jam, especially when it involves cryptids. For my novel "ROPEN ISLAND," I got up close and personal with Pterodons and Pterodactyls. Nothing sets my fingers on fire like diving into unknown territory, whether it's conjuring reluctant heroes or exploring uncharted flora and fauna. It's all part of my storytelling escapades.

At the moment, I'm wrapping up another novel, "LOST CITY OF QUATRIA," set in 1900 Antarctica. I'm on the final lap—last hundred pages—and boy, it's the hardest part. I don’t want to mess it up.

When I start writing, I usually have a clear vision of the beginning and the ending. My characters step forward like eager actors auditioning for a play. The middle? Well, that's where the plot thickens. Words bloom on the page, characters evolve, and plot twists pop up like jack-in-the-boxes. Each screenplay and novel always turns out better than I imagined, and every project becomes my favorite while I'm in the thick of it.

This time, I've added a character based on someone I adored, David. He made cameo appearances in a few of my scripts before, but it was tough because he'd passed away. It seemed like a great idea at first, but I ended up focusing on the laughs and moments we never got to share. David often egged me on, saying, “Make me handsome, witty, and badass.” And I did, but with this new story, the pain of loss isn't there anymore. In my pages, he lives, flourishes, and cracks everyone up. Even with a story set in 1900, it feels real. I want to do him proud.

Now, as I approach the climax of this novel, I want to elevate him further. This part should flow like a river, but that's when doubt sneaks in. I think many creatives can relate. Can I keep the momentum going? Will the muse be there tomorrow?

Creativity, for me, is like a cat: sometimes it purrs, sometimes it hides under the couch. I say, “I have no fear,” but doubt still creeps in. When I paint, I often focus on one tiny section that bugs me, sometimes so much that I abandon the whole project or give it away. This usually happens when I'm ninety-five percent finished. Is it a skill issue, or does frustration win the day? Most of the time, not knowing how to do something makes me buckle down and learn it—if it interests me.

For twenty years, this has been my process. It's a constant challenge, and that's probably why I love it so much. Writing is a solitary sport, with friends and family cheering from the sidelines. The weight is on my shoulders to cross the finish line. That's where I am today, huffing and puffing with my characters.

Can I make it? As I stare at the screen, waiting for the words to flow and the story to wrap up, I hesitate. Just a bit. An intake of breath, a moment of procrastination, an email, a phone call—anything but facing that monumental task. Writing isn't easy, but it’s consuming and sometimes feels out of reach.

And on the periphery, David whispers in my ear, “Push, push, push. Keep going.”

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