I finished Waves of Light, the third book in the Sadie series, this past Saturday.
Finish is a relative word when it comes to a book. Once I sort out the tangle of words and plot lines and character on my own, the work has only just begun. Fortunately, I have wonderful writer friends who first jump up and down to celebrate with me after I write “THE END,” and who then gently point out the rough patches that might still require a little work.
I took a risk writing Waves of Light. Instead of creating a rock-solid plot outline to begin, I decided to practice what I preach. I tried letting go a little, playing a little more. I used Scrivener, which allowed me to write scenes before I worried too much about putting them in order. Unplanned scenes popped up and surprised me. And the book is all the better for them.
But while I was writing, I kept thinking of the night I sailed on Lake Michigan in a fog. Every now and again, we’d see lights from another boat, or hear voices drifting toward us over the water, but we couldn’t see past the end of our hull. We sailed slowly, feeling our way through the night, as though we’d slipped into another world. I worried we wouldn’t find our way back, or we’d crash against the rocks, but I also felt oddly calm. I wasn’t in control. All I could do was listen, watch, be present, trust. My book was like this too. I couldn’t see the way forward, more than maybe one or two steps. The fog did finally lift late last week, and I saw the last few scenes. How delightful to be surprised. How amazing to let go enough to travel beyond my own comfortable landscape into new territory.
I can’t wait to share the story with you!
