And I do mean minor. Took my netbook to the David Garrett concert because 1) I’m a big ass nerd. 2) I was going to be alone there for at least 2 hours before the show started. 3) I’m a big ass nerd. Oh wait. Right, well, so I skipped the bar scene and found a corner where I could set up and even though I couldn’t connect to the wi fi, I was able to get some things done…mainly look over the writing, do some light plotting, work on the pitch, whatever.
Maybe it was the change of venue, or the general atmosphere – excited people, that sort of thing. Kinda swept me up a bit, and I realized that perhaps I’ve been writing in the wrong direction. I have a tendency to push past the point of sanity and put a lot of undue pressure on myself sometimes. Call it an inner standard of sorts, if you will. I tend to set the bar on the high side – after all, I managed to crank out one novel in less than a year – surely I ought to be able to do it again?And hey, let’s try *two* this time.
But then I was thinking that perhaps part of the reason I’m having trouble sorting out some of plotting structure is that I’ve stopped listening to the inner voices of the characters (and there are bigger things in place here than what I’ve mentioned, but the concept is the same).In my rush to produce, produce, produce, I’ve lost something in the translation. Characters are balking, plots are twisting as I try to force them into a box they are struggling to get out of.
Words cannot be forced. At least, mine can’t. And the story is letting me know.
Inwardly, I know this, hence my attempt to step back away from things this week and give them a chance to settle out.
And you know what? The characters are starting to whisper things to me again…who they really are. Where they want to go. Who they’re gonna fall in love with.
Think I’m going to listen this time.