Status: Moderately terrified but happy about it
Reading: The First Five Pages by Noah Lukeman and an ARC copy of a paranormal YA for review
On iTunes: 15 Step by Radiohead
I offed my ending. Godfather style. Mario Puzo would be so proud. I, on the other hand, am terrified.
I have no way to explain it. Well into book two - about 7,000 words or so - I discovered the end of the first story just wouldn't settle.
So I killed it. Now I'm in that terrifying free fall that happens when you just write and wait to see what comes out. I'm finding I have to give myself permission to get it wrong to get it on the page again, shifting gears from relentless revision to crazy creation. The good news is two-fold. I love this part, AND I stop eating when my creativity is high.
Bathing suit season is coming up.
The bad news is...bountiful. I stop eating, therefore I stop cooking. And cleaning. And doing laundry. And talking to people. I also am inevitably pissy with my family. I'm pretty sure I won't sleep until I vomit forth a first draft for the new ending.
Or at least until I discover what that new ending is.
Did I mention I love my job?