Discovering my Muse and Her Frying Pan
I've been struggling for awhile now with writing. I'm working on a new book - think a different spin on Hollywood meets Regular Joe, with horses, and cowboy hats.
When I wrote Company Ink I had such a strong sense of who Dani and Dan were, why they belonged together, and the conflict(s) that kept them apart. I would count down the hours until I could get back to my laptop and write. The story just flowed out of me and it was such a pleasure to put it down on metaphorical paper.
The new book couldn't be more different. This time I have a clear sense of place, and of the supporting cast, but the rest hasn't felt right. The hero and heroine's personalities have felt fluid, I can't quite figure them out. And the underlying conflict left me with a nagging feeling that maybe these two might not have such an HEA, even if I forced them to. I found the story interesting, but I doubted if anyone else would.
While writing Company Ink was a pleasure, the new book has felt like a chore. This feeling is compounded by the fact that I broke my leg about a month ago. Due to mobility issues, and the fear of slipping on ice again, my world has been significantly narrowed to a bed and a desk. At first I tried to look on the bright side. Think of all the time you will have to write, I told myself. But despite what I tried to tell myself, the reality of having to spend three months in a cast without doing the things I love, and the amount of time and energy it takes just to shower, has left me feeling depressed and unmotivated.
I've been really struggling to put any words into the new novel. Days when I could get twenty in felt like a victory. I almost abandoned the story several times.
But last night things shifted. I was lying in bed thinking about the story, frustrated and just about ready to give up, when all of a sudden a new plot lens shift into place. I felt it clearly. If I have a muse, she must have smacked me upside the head with an inspirational frying pan. The story was different now. The heroine had a new background, her personality solidified, the conflict changed, things became intriguing. I was excited to write again.
I know this isn't the end of the struggle. There is a lot of work ahead. Do I start over entirely? Do I try to edit what I already have? What about all the scenes I love that no longer make sense?
But I'm inspired again. I'm ready to tackle the hard work. For the first time in a long time I'm excited to write. I'm ready to talk to my muse and her frying pan again.
When I wrote Company Ink I had such a strong sense of who Dani and Dan were, why they belonged together, and the conflict(s) that kept them apart. I would count down the hours until I could get back to my laptop and write. The story just flowed out of me and it was such a pleasure to put it down on metaphorical paper.
The new book couldn't be more different. This time I have a clear sense of place, and of the supporting cast, but the rest hasn't felt right. The hero and heroine's personalities have felt fluid, I can't quite figure them out. And the underlying conflict left me with a nagging feeling that maybe these two might not have such an HEA, even if I forced them to. I found the story interesting, but I doubted if anyone else would.
While writing Company Ink was a pleasure, the new book has felt like a chore. This feeling is compounded by the fact that I broke my leg about a month ago. Due to mobility issues, and the fear of slipping on ice again, my world has been significantly narrowed to a bed and a desk. At first I tried to look on the bright side. Think of all the time you will have to write, I told myself. But despite what I tried to tell myself, the reality of having to spend three months in a cast without doing the things I love, and the amount of time and energy it takes just to shower, has left me feeling depressed and unmotivated.
I've been really struggling to put any words into the new novel. Days when I could get twenty in felt like a victory. I almost abandoned the story several times.
But last night things shifted. I was lying in bed thinking about the story, frustrated and just about ready to give up, when all of a sudden a new plot lens shift into place. I felt it clearly. If I have a muse, she must have smacked me upside the head with an inspirational frying pan. The story was different now. The heroine had a new background, her personality solidified, the conflict changed, things became intriguing. I was excited to write again.
I know this isn't the end of the struggle. There is a lot of work ahead. Do I start over entirely? Do I try to edit what I already have? What about all the scenes I love that no longer make sense?
But I'm inspired again. I'm ready to tackle the hard work. For the first time in a long time I'm excited to write. I'm ready to talk to my muse and her frying pan again.
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