(warning: semi-coherence follows…)
Tonight: a little breakthrough after feeling stuck. After feeling like I was treading water (so to speak) with two characters stuck inside a tunnel (don’t laugh – oh, go on, go ahead. It does sound ridiculous) and me with no idea of what would happen when they got out.
Finally something just snapped in my brain. Just write a damn outline. Who cares if it’s not what gets written.
And so: index cards. One per 2,000 word scene (totally arbitrary). Turns out I’ve got 22 more scenes to write. Spread across one major and three minor characters. That’s only a handful each. All of a sudden that feeling of “what the hell am I going to write?” has become “oh crap! How am I going to fit it all in?”
Already there are new scenes. New major events. How can this be? Brain, all this time we were sitting around banging futilely on the blank screen (metaphors are out the window now), doing weird Peter Elbow-esque freewriting sessions, going out to sea (that’s his metaphor) and then looking for land, what my brain really wanted were piles of index cards. And only a few of them.
Who knows – maybe it was just The Magnetic Fields playing in the background. The cup of chamomile tea. My tired state. Getting so fed up with the lack of progress that any forward momentum is feeling ok right now.
I just so want to get this done now. And the weird bit? I want to get it done so I can turn around and write it all again, but better.
I think there’s something wrong with me.
And with that, I bid you goodnight.