Breadcrumbs

I wrote Battlehymn with a vague inkling of where it might be headed. I borrowed from a number of places including LDS scriptures, the works of John Ringo, Macross Frontier, etc. And I wrote it pretty quick – it was a NaNoWriMo novel, after all, and the whole think clocks in just north of 60k words.

I finally sat down and wrote a good chunk of what’s left in book 2 – Lamentations tonight. (Yeah, I know, the goal was 3k a day, I’m a week behind, I know. That’s still what I’m shooting for. Which will get harder starting Monday when I start a new contract job for a few months.)

But there was one scene I knew I needed in Battlehymn. I wasn’t 100% sure why I needed it, it was just a cool thing. And a not-insignificant portion of Lamentation is one character trying to figure out how to deal with the implications of it, while everyone around that character is sort of pooh-poohing the idea that there was any real effect at all.

Then I wrote tonight’s piece. I’ve heard Holly Lisle talk about how your muse will leave breadcrumbs around for you as you’re writing. Call it the muse, call it inspiration, call it your own subconscious playing with shiny bits and pieces. And suddenly, things in the first book that I thought were just interesting filler or characterization have taken on very real significance. Writing pieces like that – being able to play with that kind of thing… it’s why I love doing this so much.

I’ve got a lot of writing to do between now and February, when I said I wanted to have Lamentation started in broadcast.

Addendum: And by talk of breadcrumbs and muses, I don’t want anyone to think that maybe I believe that something in me planned it. Writing is a lot like playing with blocks. LEGOs maybe. You’re putting together something, and you see this fiddly bit sticking out, and then you grab another fiddly bit, and things go together. You didn’t plan it, but you grab it and use it because it looks cool, feels right, makes it more interesting. That’s me – a kid with some LEGOs.