If you’ve known me, and my writing, for a while, then you know I’m absolutely terrible at finishing stories. These days anyway. I’m gonna blame exhaustion and depression. That way I don’t have to put the blame on myself.
One of my post popular stories (they’re all stories it seems weird calling them books) was Sharpe. If I recall correctly that was only going to be a working title.
What’s it about?
Sharpe was about a woman named Erin Sharpe (groundbreaking I know) who was co Stanton in motion, on a mission no she kept to herself. Until she met someone in a small town she just couldn’t leave. Until, that is, she had to. Read the first 1,000 words here.
I’m keeping that description vague on purpose. Needless to say, it was shaping up to be some of my best writing to date. There was language and scenes that I’d never written about before. I changed a lot of my style with that story.
It was also written initially by hand in one of those small personal Five Star notebooks, with the Bic Cristal pens in blue ink. Yes. I was specific. Mostly because both could fit in my pocket and I could sneak it into the floor at work. At the time I had a job that didn’t require a lot of undivided attention and I could sneak a word or two in.
I would write on break and lunch at work, and any chance I got. When I got a chapter or two written, I took it home and typed. I believe I mostly listened to Adele’s 21 and The Civil Wars albums during this time.
I. WROTE. MYSELF. INTO. A. HOLE.
Like, a deep hole that I couldn’t crawl out of. I became so confident in the story, which I believe I was sharing on my personal Facebook page in the notes feature (the good old days), that I wrote out the entire outline from start to finish (after I got so much written).
The problem with doing the outline, for me, was that I knew how I wanted it to end. I still remember how I wanted it to end. So, for me, it was done.
There was also the problem of the time jump. There was significant mystery in the first “part” that needed to be cleared up. So the second part involves a time jump. That time jump because a whole new story. A story that could stand on its own, and probably should have.
In order to bring Erin Sharks “back to life” and share her story with the world, it would need SIGNIFICANT rewriting and restructuring.
I am not opposed to the idea. I want to bring her back. I hate leaving things unfinished. Especially this thing. But circumstances do not allow me to work on it.
Those being the fact that I have 99 things to do and this blog is one of them.
She’s not completely forgotten. There’s a handful of people out there (like, three) who experienced her, and I knew they’d be thrilled to read the end. I’ve not given up in her yet.
Thanks for reading.