Sunday, December 28, 2014

The Life

Writers are filled with fear and doubt. It comes with the territory, I suppose. If I could wish away anything about me, it would be insecurity. Here's an example:



So yeah. 10,000 words into a page one rewrite of my long-developing novel I've dumped everything I'd done so far.

DUMPED.

Because I was right. I was just beginning to approach the real beginning of the story. AND I'd done all the work I'd done just to get there. That's a lot of just-ing, isn't it?

This made me nervous. Was I right? Really? How many times would I have to go back and forth to finally get where I needed to be? See - I thought I was right, and then I wasn't and I started over. Then I thought about it after doing the work and figured out that I was right to do the work I was doing but I wasn't doing it in the right place. So I was wrong again. Then I saw how I was right.



Jeez, are you as confused as I am? Do you think writing is easy? Fuhgeddaboutit.

A little off the top and a refill later, I came to the realization of where the actual beginning of the story is. And I needn't actually dump the work I'd done over the last few weeks. It will inform flashbacks and could conceivably be used as it is. Or with a little editing.

Speaking of which, I'm not tossing out anything my editor friend said about this story. It's foremost in my mind. So with that in mind:



Okay. Ducking back out now. I've got writing to do.