Grief is just love with no place to go.

My friend from one of my writing groups said this to me during a writing sprints call when we should have been, well, writing.

I was chin deep in the throes of my grief, missing my friends, missing the rhythm of a school year, wondering what I was going to do since it seemed as though no agents wanted my book.

It was December, and I missed the verve of school during the holidays, the momentous descent into winter break. And I didn’t know how to create that for myself in my new work from home writer life.

I was anxious every day. But there was something about that realization, that grief is just love with no place to go, that made me go, “Hm.” And then the question became, How do I express that love so this doesn’t pull me under?

And what do I do with this novel that no one seems to want?

There was an idea ping ponging around in my head that was getting louder and louder. But all my energy was focused on getting my first novel out. I couldn’t abandon it…could I?

Or, if not abandon it, then put it aside for a bit to work on other things…

I had been writing bits and pieces of this new story for a while during writing groups where we worked with prompts, mostly. But then, I got the “download”, so to speak. I wrote out the entire summary from start to finish in one evening…for three books. Apparently, my second book would be part of a series (or rather a standalone with series potential, as one who is querying a series is told to sell it. Don’t want to come on too strong.)

Reading through the summary, I felt the spark of a good idea and thought that maybe it truly was time to set my first novel aside, for now.

I didn’t feel sad about putting the novel aside. It kind of felt like a relief, actually.

Not because I was sick of the rejection from agents, but because I was worried that I only had that one story to tell. Turns out, I was wrong.

There were more stories! And by committing myself to this one, I was holding myself back from writing all the other ones that were bursting in my brain.

The task of writing another first draft felt daunting, but I started with 10 minutes. That was it. I’d open my computer and write for 10 minutes. I didn’t worry about how the words sounded or really if the story made sense. I just wrote.

Eventually I built momentum. 10 minutes became 15. 15 became 30. And by April, I had decided I was going to do my own version of Nanowrimo and reach for 50,000 words.

I did that and was soon finished with draft one of my second novel.

At the end of it all, I say this.

Writing a novel can feel overwhelming. Putting down something that you thought would have a different outcome can be sad.

But a novel can be written in 10 minutes a day.

You are more than one good idea. You are more than one good story.

Sometimes we have to put something aside for the moment, so that we can try something new that is more aligned with who we’ve become.

Until next week.