Author John E. Budzinski

Life (and writing) Go On

Jun 12, 2019 by John E Budzinski, in Culture

Writing is weird. I have been amid final edits to my book. I have spent time on my website and getting email set up and marketing aspects - lots of back office items

I have neglected a lot, including communicating with my publisher and other contacts. It's been two weeks. I will address that problem tomorrow.

I have to spend some time getting ready for a workshop this coming weekend at the University of Iowa Summer Writers Festival. I need to schedule a few other sessions. I have been invited to two. It would be rude not to attend.

Then, I've started to work on my second book, again. I've already done work on it, including pretty much completing the end. It shows what you can do once you outline and layout a plan. I am learning experience make writers much more productive.

I know what I want to do with this next book, I planned it out as I did the first. (I have three books planned for this trilogy.) I had trouble though, figuring out how to begin it - how do you start a sequel that really is not a sequel, yet I know it will look and like one.

Book one is "Nothing Special-Just A Life: A 60-something-year-old looks back on life." Book two: "Life Goes On: Wait, Wait-there's more to the story, I forgot to tell you ..." Book three: "A Place To Call Home." The 2nd and 3rd titles are tentative.

Anyway, this week I had lots of thoughts, and I came up with the beginning of book 2. It is so weird to experience the creative process. I wish I could explain it - and better still, understand it.

The process led me to spelling bees and the grade school world of “show and tell.” My book begins with those subjects. If that piques your curiosity, great. Don't ask me what will follow - if I tell you, you won't buy the book., and I can use all the royalties I can muster.

I am having fun with where I am - who the beginning is going. I am more confident that I was with "Nothing Special," yet I know I have lots of work to do and lots of editing, second-guessing, wondering, doubts, and many moments of twirling my thumbs in front of my computer, wondering, what do I do now? There will be nights when I sit with just the light of the screen in my face as I sip a glass of wine and munch on some cheese.

I will want to call someone. Most likely, I will not. Writing is lonely, and few relatives, friends, or acquaintances understand the process and psyche involved. I will head off to Iowa City and the Writers Haunts I am discovering to sit around drinking a beer or two while chowing down some buffalo wings, chatting with other writers who also need time to ponder, seek out words, and look for inspiration, and mostly support and understanding.

We will walk away disappointed - at least a little and will head off back home in the dark, but with a glint of a little light of hope. We will smile and sit down in our individual writer's world banging out words, each knowing the process will stop, we will head to the Haunts - again, and repeat the process again and again until we've run out of words and the story is done. The End.

Life is weird.
Life goes on ... 
Until
IT is done and we come to an end - or a place to call home.