On the Outpost of Void

Outpost Void

Day before yesterday I wrote down the last line of Outpost, the first in my new fantasy series The Fylking. It’s big, epic and beautiful–and yikes do I feel weird. I should celebrate by dancing around or having a scotch or something. Instead I feel empty, as if everything has changed and now I don’t know what to do. I’m wandering around here like an idiot.

This isn’t a new phenomenon, but it always feels like it. I call it the Void and usually feel it after finishing a novel or a painting. I feel it in the fall after cleaning out the gardens. The creative force is awesome; it comes along and sets me on fire, and when it passes there’s a letting go, a scary, sad, dark place where the fire used to be. I want to crawl into it and cry.

It’s not as if the novel is finished. Oh dear no, I have much editing to do, and then I’ll send it to my editor so she can do her juju on it. But that’s the easy part. For now, I need to give the Void its due. It’s the source and culmination of all things.

Hmm. Suppose I could start by cleaning the cataclysm that is my desk.

Little Tree, by F.T. McKinstry

Outpost Cover ArtOutpost, Book One in The Fylking.

A race of immortal warriors who live by the sword.
A gate between the worlds.
Warriors, royals, seers and warlocks living in uneasy peace on one side of the Veil.
Until now.

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© F.T. McKinstry 2015. All Rights Reserved.

~ by F.T. McKinstry on April 14, 2015.

2 Responses to “On the Outpost of Void”

  1. I like how the spiral in is so smooth and consistent, not all over the place. Excellent!

    Like

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