Writing - It's a Disease

I'm afraid I've been neglecting Zigzag Timeline for a few weeks now, and I must apologize, especially to the authors whose books are still in my review queue. Despite the delay, I promise, every book I've accepted will get reviewed, and I'll try to speed up the process.

Where have I been? Well, suffice it to say, I fell down a writing hole. After I finished penning the manuscript to Artificial Absolutes' sequel, Synthetic Illusions, I tried to pick up the pace on blogging again and make up for lost time. I thought I had some time to catch up on my review queue once the manuscript was submitted. However, my brain had other plans. A new idea for a book, in an entirely unexpected genre, hit me in April, and I just had to write it down.

Now, this new book wasn't supposed to get written for a long time. I already have two series on the go, and the last thing I need is a third to occupy what little time I have left. The plan was to just jot down some ideas and pick it up again after I'd taken care of the Artificial Absolutes trilogy. But the thoughts kept hammering at my head, so finally I caved and said, "Fine! I'll start writing!"

Once I started writing, I couldn't stop, May ended up being my own unofficial NaNoWriMo, to the detriment of everything else in my life (except my day job). I stopped going to the gym. My apartment became filthy. I didn't sleep much because I wanted to stay up and finish each chapter. I subsisted on ramen because I didn't want to take the time to go to the grocery store. And my poor review books sat unread on my Kindle and on my nightstand. All I cared about was banging out this damn book, which is tentatively titled Butterfly Dome.

My roommate even suggested (only half jokingly) that I should see a therapist, and that I might have some form of OCD. I don't blame her - it must have been weird for her to go out in the evening, return hours later, and find me in the same spot on the couch, tapping away at my computer.

Thing is, I don't even know what drives me to write this book. It's a far cry from the twisty-turny chases and adventures I've become accustomed to writing, and the elements that drove me to write the Artificial Absolutes and Flynn Nightsider books are largely absent. Unlike Artificial, Butterfly Dome isn't in a genre I've been obsessed with since I was a kid. Unlike Flynn, it's not a plot-driven action/adventure with mouthy characters.

I'm playing with an entirely new genre: YA paranormal romance. Well, Butterfly Dome was supposed to be sci-fi, but the emphasis on drama over plot, plus the romance between a human girl and a mysterious humanoid alien boy, put it in PNR territory. Which is, I think, my comeuppance for my previous disdain toward the genre (in my defense, my only exposure was through Twilight). Haha, universe. Very funny. My current genre of dislike is James Patterson-type crime thrillers with gratuitous violence. Now watch me get an idea for one that I just can't let go...

In conclusion, writing is a disease. It infected me and wouldn't let me do anything else. But now that I've finished the first part of Butterfly Dome, it seems to be letting up a bit, which should, hopefully, give me time to catch up on my poor review queue. Maybe I'll even see sunshine again...