Welcome to my slightly schizophrenic world.
Hi. I’m Elijana’s mundane author. Normally, I am (apparently) forbidden by Elijana the great (and yes that was loaded with sarcasm) to post on her blog. But she’ll get over it–and even if she doesn’t, I’m peeved enough at her right that I just don’t care. Durn gloating muse.
Why am I peeved at her? Well, I’ll tell you. I had a goal. It was a good goal. It was one that I worked very hard to complete. I thought I had completed it. What was the goal? To finish the revisions to a manuscript, then send it out. That’s a good goal, right? It’s one that writers do. And I’m a writer, so it’s what I do. But what happened? My gut, intuition, Elijana, E-All of The Above–that’s what happened. Silly me kept telling myself that the manuscript was ready. Silly, silly me. Why silly me? Well, I’ll tell ya.
Me and my ambitious self thought that it was doubt and fear wriggling and niggling at the back of my oh-so-left-brained-self that was telling me that the manuscript wasn’t perfect. I ignored it, thinking that I was just being an annoying perfectionist and should get over it. So I kept chugging along. I chugged right on along in the synopsis. Wrote a whole 2/3 of it before I came to a screeching, grinding, nails on the chalkboard halt. What caused the halt? A plot hole? Nope, not a plot hole. Lack of conflict? Nope, not necessarily a lack of conflict. What the heck was it? It was unnamed conflict. (Anybody else besides me out there feel the need to type three letters that include a W, then a T, and finally an F?)
Apparently, I went through the whole manuscript skirting around naming the conflict for the protagonist. My lovely characters–the protagonist and romantic interest–spent the first 2/3 of the book dancing around naming this conflict. Then the dark moment happened and… I was not quite happy with what was in it. Oh I liked the action. But it was lacking something that I couldn’t put my finger on. So I did what any good writer in my situation would do–I took that scene and the one before it (that set it up), then scheduled a chat with another writer. The whole time I’m talking about this scene to the writer-friend, I’m chastising myself for being an anal-retentive-control-freak-with-perfectionist-tendencies.
Turns out I chastised myself for no good reason. My gut was right. Elijana (I can’t believe I am admitting this in public where she can gloat and gloat and, sigh, gloat some more) was (gulp) right. I wasn’t being a perfectionist. Instead, I was being a good mundane author who was listening to her muse. Go figure.
This has set me back on my ambitious time schedule, but I’ll cope. The unnamed conflict will get a name. The manuscript will be the better and stronger for it. And I’ll finally be able to sleep through the whole night without having those two scenes played over and over in my mind while Elijana attempts to hammer her message into me.
So now I have to ask… anybody else out there ever have one of those moments where you’re doubting your process and accusing yourself of being a perfectionist when in reality you’re doing what you should be doing?