For about a month my writing routine has not exactly been on par. Sure, I’ve had my moments but they have been few and extremely far in between.
The last week of November I did what I could to keep ahead of things but I knew I would be thrown off once the operation arrived. When my prediction came true I wasn’t surprised but I was still annoyed.
My Messed up Head
The pain pills, the rehab and the adjustments of living with a freshly new knee messed up my concentration on a high level. For a while I couldn’t turn on that switch that I had grown used to.
It wasn’t the case of desire, in fact it had more to do with the cupboard being bare. But something strange occurred last week and it made me wonder if writing is as solitary as we think.
My Messed up Novel
My current work had a giant plot hole. For months I have worked and reworked it. At times I thought I had it but in the end it became nothing more than false celebration.
For a while I tried working around it figuring this plot hole mess would heal on its own. When that didn’t work I’d spent hours failing to fix it wondering if I chose the wrong story to tell.
When the operation arrived I put everything aside. I knew the energy and the drive of dealing with my story’s mess would create more harm than good. But on the day after Christmas I forced myself to sit down in my old familiar writing spot and try again.
I have always thought that writing a novel can be just as entertaining as the novel itself and on that particular December 26th morning my thoughts held true.
I drew out a map of the novel pointing out the pluses and minuses. Suddenly, with ease, the giant plot hole from hell appeared to have solved itself.
Unlike before, my characters found their place, the story-line eased a few degrees to the left while an unknown side character filled in the blanks.
Side character? Blank Filling? What the hell is going on?
Did the characters meet at a Portland Starbucks while I was under the knife? Or did they choose the hospital cafeteria to work out the details?
Did I mention the cafeterias outstanding cheeseburger?
Time to go to work
Now I have a story I can write. My confidence is real. Not an ounce of doubt in site. But no matter how good it feels I can’t help but wonder.
How did the story fix itself without yours truly at the wheel?
If I’ve said it before I’ve said it a thousand times: Writing a novel is a fascinating experience.
HAPPY NEW YEAR, FRIENDS!!!!
I hope 2019 is the best for all of us.