Fast Draft has officially come to an end, for me anyway. Some of my compadres want to harness the momentum and continue. Me? Catch up on life that happened around me for two weeks while I was in a turn-of-the-century house in a fictitious Colorado mining town with a tortured hero and a wounded spirit.
Fast Draft was more to me this time than just completing a first draft in two weeks. During those fourteen days, I celebrated a first booksigning with one of my CPs--a vicarious joy hard to put to words--and said goodbye to a feline love of eighteen years. Writing became more to me than just hitting a page count each day. Writing became my compass, my magnetic center, through the highs and lows. Several times I hit a wall, thinking the worst possible luck had struck me during this window of time I was supposed to be performing at maximum potential. Why couldn't life, and death, have waited just a few more days?
When I hit that wall, I'd take everything I was in the moment--the grief, the hope, the uncertainty and the love I felt so acutely--and pour it into my characters. My joy and darkness became their own. More than anything I've written to date, this novel is a labor of love in the purest sense.
To learn more about Fast Draft, visit Candy Haven's website.
Tomorrow, time travel markets...