I just need some quiet time and a stick of TNT…

What? Me? Writer’s Block? No way!

Then why am I constantly drawn to the keyboard yet find myself playing various styles of Solitaire?

I should be finalizing that draft so I can whisk it off the to editor for her final edit.

I’m scared. Yes. That’s it. No…that’s a cop-out. I’m not scared. I know this is a good book.

On my last editing go-round, I’ve working on point of view. Not difficult now that I know what I’m doing. But…

Changing the point of view from omniscient to one person has altered how the book ends. Slightly. Not greatly. Just enough to throw a wrench in the gears of creativity.

I don’t feel the WOW of the finish. Maybe I just know the story so well now, and I know what’s coming up in the next book, that I just feel like this book is lacking something.

voices in my head-great ideas

There are scenes in these manuscripts that still move me. I cry, get goosebumps, gasp, or sigh in relief each and every time I read them. Why is this eluding me for the finish to this book? I’m starting to feel that my writing might be inadequate to pull it off. I have doubts about its success.

Then I talk to my best friend who knows these characters as well as I do, almost anyway. I read messages from my editor. I read other writers’ blogs. I am not alone. This happens.

I will overcome this.

I will find the WOW factor. It’s there. I just need to do what I’ve done before. Sit back, breathe, and listen to what the characters are telling me.

Watch the movie in my head to see how it ends. Those voices may be bossy but they would never give up on me so I won’t give up on them!

Bye bye Block!!

The End.

explosion

 

 

And the Strawberry Wins!

So, I’ve had these scenes in my head for more than two years. Some for over ten years. It’s like watching your favourite scenes of your most beloved movie over and over.

Then someone (let’s call this person an editor) comes along and says, ‘Try writing this scene from only one of the character’s points of view instead of two.’

What? my mind screams. It can’t be done! I’ve held this vision near to my heart it has become my heart! You don’t understand! If I change it to just one POV, then I lose half of the scene, half of the emotions! But I’ll try it if only to keep you quiet on the subject.

It’s so hard to make my mind twist around to see what only one person sees, to take out favourite thoughts of the other person whose very life is changing with every line. Inside my head, these people are arguing with each other and jostling for first place now!
voices arguing“Peggy! Pick me! Pick me!”
“No, forget him…Tell my thoughts! I want everyone to know my innermost feelings.”
“Too bad. She’s picked me. Better luck next time.”
“Peggy, you are the meanest person I know! I want a different writer!”
“Be quiet! Stop trying to sneak your thoughts in through your actions. She’s letting me run the scene!”
“Since when did we let her dictate how our lives go?”
“You forget you are just a figment of her imagination. Let her get on with this.”
“You’re only taking her side because she’s following YOUR point of view.”
“Exactly.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. If you hated me, you wouldn’t be letting me hold your hand.”

BE QUIET, YOU TWO! I have to think this out! I must conquer this challenge if only to prove to this person, this editor, that it cannot be done from only one perspective!

“Exactly! That’s what I’m trying to tell you!”
Quiet now, girl, or I’ll write you out of the scene entirely and make him fall for the girl that sold him that cheeseburger.
“You’d do that to me, Peggy?”
Stop pouting. I love you. I would never do that to you.
“Watch it, Peggy. Don’t cave in! Stop making her bite her lip. It’s driving me crazy.”

Type. Think. Type. Rethink. Erase. Type.

Hmm. Interesting. I hadn’t thought of that.

Type. Type. Change. Type. Add. Type. Type. Read through…

Wait. What’s this? Wow. This is good. I mean REALLY good. I like this! I may just have to keep this version. I might just do this again and again!!

Then I remember that once upon a time, long, long ago, I didn’t like Strawberries. Would not eat them. My mother had to make me a chocolate syrup shortcake when the rest of the family had strawberries. Didn’t know and still don’t know why, but I just knew I didn’t like them. Then I was on a date or something and proper etiquette called for me to consume the dreaded thing. I scrunched my nose and held my breath and bit.

And I have never turned down a strawberry since then!

Well done, editor. I will listen to you.

Meanwhile, in some private nook, those two are discovering that maybe they don’t have to share the limelight on the stage that is my imagination. I think they’re feeding each other chocolate covered strawberries! And now, they’re—Oh my! Stop that right now, you two!!!

PerfectStrawberry