It has been a crazy week and a half. I was on a high from publishing my new novella, there is no feeling like it. But then reality set in and I had to work on the next story.
Somehow I wrote myself into a corner. I knew where I wanted it to go, I even high-level outlined it. Then why was I not able to “make” the story work? The answer is in that line. MAKE. I was trying to push the story to where I wanted it to go and in doing that I was trying to get there too fast.
I was in a stressed out state for about three days. So much so I felt I was going to have to scrap the story and try something else. My editing deadline was looming in the very near future and I needed to have a good story to send. More panic, which equalled less writing, which led to more panic.
Last Tuesday evening, I poured myself a large cup of coffee, took my laptop to the living room and opened my story file. I decided I would read all the way through it, away from the desk, so the expectation of “working” on it would not be there.
Reading the manuscript right to the end without stopping to make changes was an eye opening experience. I was able to see where I had taken the wrong turn. The story was still going to work. Yeah! I just needed to find the right detour route to get me around, and help me fill in the potholes.
By the end of the read through I had come up with the solution. I made some notes so I could start fresh on Wednesday morning.
Wednesday morning, I got up early eager to start. I sat at the computer and wrote like the wind. In no time at all I had a few thousand words inserted here and there and I was feeling much better. Don’t get me wrong I still have a lot of self-editing to do before my I send my manuscript off to the editor at the end of this week, but at least I feel I have a story again. Phew!
Now, I just have to remember this for the next time, because it will happen again.