My mind is full of stories. I can’t stop.
I’m supposed to be editing my novel. While I have started the beginning over, I haven’t touched the rest in days. It sits in a pink binder gathering dust while I rework the first pages, send myself voice memos of lines that I must add throughout, and write.
What am I writing? A trilogy.
This is a problem.
I created a new world in my head. One set in the future. (Yes, dystopian society)
I can’t get this girl’s voice out of my head. Her name is Penelope; Po for short. Po lives in a world very different from our own but doesn’t know any better. But don’t worry, there are a couple boys who lead the way – and some lady friends too. Po grows into herself. Po is beautiful, like everyone else. Equality. That’s what the new nation is built upon. But everyone knows that not everyone can be equal… or don’t they?
I’ve already mapped out the first book. I’m trying very hard to not let other dystopian novels (like Delirium, Matched, Hunger Games, Divergent, etc) cloud my head. I don’t want this to be “just another dystopian society.” I want it to be grand. I want the world to feel real. I want everyone to be very scared that this could indeed happen – if we let it.
But I digress… a writer writes. But she also needs to edit. So if the stories in my head could just hit pause for a moment, I’d like to edit. But they don’t and I don’t and here I am.
I need to focus on Stella and Mitchell. They need my attention more than Po.
Stella and Mitchell need to ripen so that their story can be heard. This novel is important to me for so many reasons. This novel has to get published. There is no choice.