Does it mean I’m rushing? Does it mean quantity is more important than quality?
In recent years, I’ve discovered my writing tends to be complicated. There isn’t one main character; there are three. There isn’t a straightforward chronology; there are bounces back and forth in time. There aren’t necessarily reliable characters; there are lies that need to be intricately woven in.
All of which, for me at least, takes time. Time to ponder, time to play with ideas, time to read others’ works to see how they master these tasks and consider how I might do the same.
Which is not to say prolific authors can’t do a great job. There are many who give their readers exactly what they want and enjoy successful—sometimes astronomical—careers.
But when I visit an author’s website and read that he or she has several partially written manuscripts on the go, and more in the planning stage, it makes me pause. How can pumping out so much, all at once, create the best product? I would think something must be lost, somewhere, in the rush against time—in the rush to make a buck.
So rather than “prolific,” I now strive for “excellent.” And if the story happens to develop quickly, so be it. But if it happens to develop at a more moderate pace, I’m fine with that too.