Three days ago I “released” Mother Nature from my superstition that rain should bring me acceptances, the way cool animal sightings seem to foretell rejection. Well, yesterday it sprinkled in the evening. Today it poured. And I got a rejection.
Some days, it feels like I just can’t win.
Nevertheless, writing is proceeding (don’t you just love legally using passive when you can?). It’s a “writing” week, like I said, so I sat down yesterday and opened an ideas folder, found a theme that looked likely, and said to myself, “Well, go on. Write!”
I plopped a line down. Another followed. My opening volley, as it were. Now, what comes next?
For the next hour, I puzzled out this character, this strange world. I wrote, and lo and behold — it did not stink! Today I wrestled more with the furtherance of the story by nailing the story itself. What is happening, and why? What are potential endings here? The conflict is what, exactly?
And the story taking shape is interesting. The character is someone I’m coming to like, can relate to. I feel drawn to her story. Now I feel like half of me is smirking at the other half. See? I told you, didn’t I? If you just write, the story will come.
But I still hate it when the smug half wins.