Over my head?

There have been several times when I've felt the subject matter I wanted to write was above my skill level. A couple of times, I chose not to write it.

This time, I decided to do it, as a challenge. I've written so many books that I don't need to prove that to myself anymore. I can risk a few failures by overreaching.

This idea was so strong that even though I didn't know if I had the chops, I thought I'd try. After all, it's my book. It's not like I'm affecting anyone else.

I'm now 25K words into "Takeover," which is over a third of the first draft. I'd say so far that I've done some of my best writing, characterization, and plotting. But I still feel like it needs more. A little more depth and sophistication, intelligence and subtlety. I feel like I've got a feel for it--maybe because I'm a native central Oregonian, a desert rat, and I've soaked up these attitudes and feelings naturally. I think I've got an advantage there.

I've always said--you can't write a book more intelligent or deep than you actually are. But you can try to probe the limits of your abilities--take the time and thought to improve it, if only incrementally, and then improve it again.

And maybe, just maybe, I can get to the book that I know is there -- if only I was smarter, more experienced, and more skilled.

Don't get me wrong. I think it will be a worthy read, and probably the best thing I've done. It's just that I can also see the potentialities gleaming within the story and don't quite have what it takes to fully flesh them out. As always, I feel like just a little push and I'm there. Maybe a little help. So close, and yet so far away.

Then again, I'm not done.