I’ve been wrestling with a nagging question lately: What if I only had one book in me?
The Magic of the First Book
When I wrote Painting Celia, the words flowed effortlessly from my fingertips, 80,000 words in three weeks. In the next three years of editing, I fell asleep thinking about Celia and León, and I woke up eager to dive back in. It was as if the narrative had taken over my life, and I was merely the conduit bringing it into existence. There was an ache in my heart that only writing could soothe.
Now, as I sit down to work on the second book in the Incubadora series, the experience feels different. I’ve learned so much from writing my first novel—the craft, the discipline, the nuances of character development. These lessons are invaluable, and I’m grateful for them. But despite having more tools at my disposal, I find myself missing that intense surge of inspiration that fueled my first book.
Kelsey’s story is unfolding before me, but not with the same urgency or fervor. The plot is mapped out, the characters are taking shape, but there’s a part of me that wonders if the magic is missing. I’m not consumed by the narrative in the same way, and that stirs up a swirl of doubts.
Doubts and Questions
Am I a one-hit wonder? Did I pour all my creativity into that first novel, leaving nothing for the stories to come? These thoughts creep in when I sit in front of a blank monitor, casting shadows over my usual confidence. I question whether the muse has taken an extended vacation, leaving me to trudge through the writing process alone.
Then, I remind myself of all the times inspiration has struck unexpectedly in my life, moments when a fleeting idea blossomed into something beautiful. Creativity has always ebbed and flowed like tides. Just because the waters are calm now doesn’t mean the waves won’t return. They always have, sooner or later.
I’ve come to realize that each book has its own journey. Painting Celia was a tempest of emotion and inspiration—a story that demanded to be told. Perhaps Kelsey’s story requires a different approach—a slower burn, a steady hand. Not every creative process will mirror the last, and that’s okay.
Redefining Success
I’m trying to embrace this new experience. I’m showing up to the page whenever I can, trusting that persistence will pave the way for inspiration to find me once again. Writing, after all, is as much about discipline as it is about inspiration. Maybe the act of continuing even when the spark feels faint is where true creativity lies.
Doubts may linger, but they don’t have to define my journey. I’m committed to telling stories, to exploring the lives of my characters, and to sharing those narratives with you. The path may look different this time around, but that doesn’t make it any less worthwhile.
Perhaps the question isn’t whether I have only one book in me, but rather, how I will continue to grow and evolve as a writer with each new story I tell. The muse may be unpredictable, but I have faith that she’ll return when the time is right.