Coming Clean

Who said this writing thing was going to be easy? Honestly. You just imagine a story, plunk it out on the trusty-rusty keyboard, send it to an editor and Voila - fini - terminar - published.

*hunkers down, glowering at keyboard*

Alright. I thought it would be easy. Stories come to me. They rumble in my brain and make me put them on paper. They fill me with excitement until I have to edit. 

I think I might need a new mindset. Excitement. Enthusiasm. Effervescence. Editing. See - they all start with the same letter and the first three sound totally wondrous. Must think fun, joy, fulfillment, pleasure, editing. Hm - doesn't seem to be working. Let's try something different.

Excrement. Evict. Evil. Oh dear. That doesn't make me inspired. Does it make you inspired! And then there's Elsewhere. Which is where I wish I was tonight. 

I pulled out some critiqued pages of 'The Other Side.' I've got two characters who have brought along a large supply box on their adventure. They need rope. They open the box and there it is. In my mind's eye, I believe rope is an essential for an adventure. My critiquer thought it 'too convenient' for them to find the rope. I want to pull out my hair. I want to scream. It's little things like that that drive me mad. 

And yet, I was near to tears watching the movie 'Master and Commander' tonight. You know what got me? What touched my soul profoundly? It was the fact that the sailors slept in their hammocks and, when they died (either in battle or from disease), they were trussed into the hammock and sent overboard. So basically - they know they are sleeping in their burial cloth. *shudders*

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0311113/

It's a little detail like that that wins readers over, I think. So perhaps the position of the rope should be mused over. 

I went to bed last night trying to figure out where I was going next with 'Other.' Thankfully, I remembered some thoughts from months ago. They work. I know exactly what I'm going to write. It will only take a wee change in Ch. 12 to make it happen. Then I can go on with the story and not be flummoxed. 

Life is flummoxing.