I hesitated a lot about posting this. I like to be upbeat on this blog, and if I were you, reading this, I would tell myself to get a grip and stop groaning. But writers are not always upbeat. Quite opposite… while half-impassioned with a deeper desire (need?) to tell stories, I tend to mope and groan about the impossibility of slapping words onto paper.

So I will be authentic with you. Here’s me right now.


Maybe it’s Seattle — the clouds and rain and empty week.

Or maybe it’s the “THE END” stamped on a whole year and a half of purpose.

Whatever it is, I’m feeling forlorn. Like an empty-nester. My baby is with my agent, all grown up and ready to face whatever’s ahead. And I am alone —

Not really alone. Barely conceived plots and characters are growing inside my mind. They frighten me: I don’t know them yet. They have no beginnings or endings, no faces or smiles. Just whispers where life might come…

Anyway, I don’t know what to do with myself. Two weeks ago I had purpose: finish the book and make it perfect. And I loved that purpose, loved being with Sophie and Esmund and Luke and Noah again… They are silly and safe and familiar. I know them so well. I’ve known them for a year and a half. We get along.

These other people, weird new people with half-imagined stories and personalities, strange names like Birch and Harley (or is his name Ian?) — they are monsters creeping around the corners of my mind. They are danger — because I don’t know where they’ll take me. I don’t know them well enough to see where they want to go.

The sequel is safer, and it demands to be written. But I guess it’s not really safer. While Sophie thinks there’s more to be said, I don’t know quite what that is. I try to see but it’s like skiing through fog: is the fog the snow, or the snow fog? Which way is up? Where am I going? Cliffs ahead?

I suppose I am just being an angsty, half-grown-up college student who loves being home with family after so many months of being away — but then after a while feels very ready to go back to other sisters and brothers at school. This was my place in high school (my identity, who I was), but now I am shifting into someone else who has a different bed, different friends, different schedule.

Or I am suffering a holiday let-down.

Whatever I’m being or feeling, I don’t know what to do with myself…


Tomorrow: the first AW Exposed interview!


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4 responses to “Forlorn

  1. Hugs. Hugs. Hugs. I’ll be so pretentious as to say I know how you feel. <33 I'm glad you posted this and let yourself speak. Writing is tough… we're not supposed to complain… we got ourselves into it. But it IS! At times it's harder than anything. And more misery-making than anything. I'm feeling that right now, with you. But… you can only wait for it to get better. Because it will. It always does. And if nothing else you can know that I'll supporting you with all my heart (: We can navigate through this fog. YES.

  2. if you are bored, you can come visit me and do some of my homework ๐Ÿ™‚

  3. amy

    kirsten, you’re right where you’re supposed to be. you’re feeling the tension that comes with growth, and change, and possibility. as much as you love your friends/characters of TIB, you’ll discover wonderful and mysterious and quirky things about your new characters. they will surprise and delight you in wonderful ways, i have no doubt!

  4. amy

    p.s. i just stumbled across this article and just had to share: so see, being forlorn is a good thing! ๐Ÿ˜‰

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