Sophomore Slump

Most of you know that I am trying to complete my second novel,  Ryan’s Letters (the sequel to Larkin’s Letters), but it has been difficult to get myself into a steady groove.  I feel like I am in a “sophomore slump”.  I can most certainly blame it’s slow process to lack of time.  Working full-time and being a mother to a toddler do not give me many opportunities to be able to sit down for a couple of hours at a time to write.  I have myself a new laptop so now I can sit in bed at night after my son goes to bed which should definitely help expedite this process.

The other reason I feel that I am in this slump is that of fear.  Fear that it won’t be as good as the first.  I have received so many positive reviews of Larkin’s Letters, so I feel that the second one needs to be better.  I am afraid that I will let the people who are looking forward to it’s sequel down.  I second guess every little thing that I write and think to myself that I can do better.  But then I think about how I felt when I was writing the first one: thinking that I would NEVER get published. Thinking it’s not good enough.  And asking myself who would like this?  I could go on and on.  And then I remember that it was good enough to be published, so why can’t this one be?

I have a finally found a new burst of motivation to finish (a shiny new laptop certainly helps!), and I wanted to give those of you who have read, supported, and enjoyed Larkin’s Letters an excerpt from Ryan’s Letters.  It’s not a big excerpt, but hopefully it is one that you will enjoy.  I have had a couple of people tell me that they are very interested to see how I am going to write a sequel, and I am very excited to see the response I get when it is finished.  I intend to write another blog entry in the next couple of days explaining why I felt it necessary to continue this story.  Until then, here is that brief excerpt I promised.

Dear Blue Eyes,

            In your letters, you wrote to me that time heals what reason cannot.   There was and there never will be a reason as to why you were taken from me. A reason as to why your life was ended so short. I wish you could have told me how much time. Because I feel like there will never be enough time for me to completely heal.

            I still look for you. I long to see your blue eyes among the stars as they decorate the night sky. I long to see your smile among the waves as they crash against the grains of sand at my feet. I long to hear your voice, my lullaby, among the crackling of the flames that burn from the bonfire as I sit here writing to you.

            It has been eight months since you have been taken from me, and I haven’t written to you since I wrote to you after I finished reading your letters. But something happened to me today, and I don’t know how else to deal with it except to write to you. I took the boat out on the back bays to fish early this morning where nobody else was around, and all I could think about was dying. About all the different ways someone can die. For me, I think drowning would be one of the worst ways to die — gasping for air as your lungs slowly fill with water, your body being pulled under by the unforgiving rip currents. Even so, it’s how I would want to go. I grew up surrounded by the ocean. Most of my childhood was spent in the water. I am at peace on the water. I spread your ashes over the water. It’s where you are, so it’s where I want to be.

            As I was waiting for the fish to bite, I saw your reflection on the water. I couldn’t help but feel that you were calling for me. That something was wrong and you needed me. I couldn’t help but jump into the water; into your reflection. I felt the rip current pull me down, and you know that I know how to swim against the rip currents. But I didn’t try. I just let the current take me. Take me into your reflection. But then I saw you. I felt you. I don’t know why I keep thinking that you still need me. I saw you that night on the beach, the night I spread your ashes. You were happy. You were safe. You were healthy. I know that you do not need me anymore. I thought I was trying to save you. But I now realize, that all along, you were trying to save ME.

            My dearest Larkin.
            Help me.
  I’m drowning.  

2 thoughts on “Sophomore Slump

  1. Amazing….never doubt your ability to tell Ryan’s story now. I loved the above excerpt above,, and began to feel that emotional pull on my heart for Ryan. I can not wait for this one. I told a friend that I had never read a book like this one where I cried early on and thru most chapters. Your storytelling is so smooth and seamless it makes the story flow so easily. Keep writing because your readers love you, Larkin, and Ryan. There story has touched many and many to come. ❤

    Lynn

    • Thank you. When a reader reaches out to me and lets me know how my writing has touched them, it definitely gives me the much needed motivation to keep writing!

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