Okay, I came home from RT in Orlando with a to-do list. People I promised to send copies of my workshop to, a blog I wanted to write containing details of the convention, the workshops, the chats, even some hot-links to other authors' sites so I could share the pleasure a little bit.
Well, I haven't gotten to any of it. I'm so far behind on the book that's due on July 1, I'm getting a little panicky. It's like trying to herd frogs, frankly. I've written and rewritten the first hundred pages more times than I want to admit, and somehow the story just kept slipping away from me. I think I mentioned in an earlier blog that ideas can be like soap bubbles, and can be lost if you don't get them down immediately.
Well, they can be even slipperier than that. You can think you have them, write ten or twenty pages, and realize the whole story is skating away, making no sense, dragging, not getting to the point, not revealing what you need it to reveal... a million things happen sometimes and the darn thing just won't come into clear focus.
I hate that. This doesn't happen to me often, thank goodness, but when it does, Medusa has nothing on me. And, I think I left some forehead prints on my keyboard.
As a writer, I always find it painful to delete my own work. But sometimes it just has to be done. I look at it, realize it's not working in some way, grit my teeth, highlight everything that is failing and hit delete with my eyes closed.
Ouch!
Then I start over again. I switch viewpoints. Or change the scene entirely. Or realize that I need to go back even farther to add something that will bring the current scene into focus.
Ordinarily I tell folks to just keep writing, finish the book, and then go back and rewrite. Ordinarily, that would work. But after writing so many books, I no longer need to do that. I know I'll finish. Eventually. And at this point when my instincts rear up and say: that's not working, I'm sure I ought to listen. The editor on my shoulder has become reasonably reliable over nearly twenty years, so I listen to her. And she almost never shuts up!
Agh. This time that editor is a very busy little imp. She's right, the book was out of focus. And finally, now, I think the focus is there. At least it feels like it. But we'll see what the next hundred pages hold in store.
Very few books have given me this much trouble. CHEROKEE THUNDER was one of them, so maybe this is a good sign?
Hope all of you are doing well and still smiling.
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