As a writer - not yet an author - I find myself standing on the brink of a precipice.
My original vision has expired. I have fulfilled it to the best of my ability. It isn't fantastic, but then, I never expected it to be. I never really expected it to be anything at all.
It is, at its best, only an incomplete glimpse of the true story underneath. It glitters faintly on the surface but the hidden geode, with all its color and facets, has yet to be cracked open.
I have five characters whose lives are inextricably intertwined. I have a world that breathes and lives in its own sphere. I have creatures that are both similar to and entirely different from any I've seen or imagined before. I have part of a new language that patters its rhythms in my head like rain.
I have 80,060 words arranged into thirty-two badly written chapters within one poorly structured novel.
Like a phoenix, this needs to be reduced to ashes and reborn. But there isn't time now for me to do it. It's taken two years to get this far, and I'm exceptionally proud of what I have accomplished. But it could be so much more.
I am letting it go. Faldur, Marenya, Raynor, Melbrinor and Pelwyn... farewell. You are free to be yourselves, whomever you turn out to be. I will find out one day, but it won't be today, nor tomorrow, nor next week. It will be when I finally have the time and mental energy to make the vision complete. I have to stop this hectic half-life I am living, that does no good for anyone, especially not me. Obsession is a poor bedfellow, and a worse friend.
Until we meet again - and we will - Aden fath. Have faith.