I’m happy with the final one, though I’ve gone according to the 1 page per 10,000 words rule. I’m going to let it sit for a couple of days then get back to it… mainly because I’ve signed up for some one-on-one synopsis help with the wonderful Mary Buckham (who gives wonderful in-person and online workshops), and am waiting for feedback from her.
Not one to simply kick back and wait, I figure it’s time to look ahead to the next project. I have an “Ideas” file loaded with… well… ideas. There are stories in there waiting to be written, characters eager to be brought to life on the page. And then there’s me – just a little gun shy after having completed a book only days ago.
I’m not exhausted. If anything, I’m energized from the ride of the last story. I’m not numb creatively. I have new and interesting scenes playing out in my head.
I am however, torn.
Which story do I work on next? The ideas pull me in all directions. I want to write. I want to get back to what I was doing just a week ago, and hammer out the story, feel the very last rush of words spring off my fingers and onto the page.
Alas… that’s called “finishing”.
This… is called ‘starting’.
Plotting – whether in detail or denial – is a long process. I’m in denial right now – insisting I’m a pantser through and through when actually, I desperately need a balance of plotting and pantsing. So, while I’d rather sit here and type away, showing my family how busy I, as writer, can be, I’ll be thinking and no doubt convincing them I’m simply goofing off.
I’ll spend the next couple of weeks turning scenarios over in my mind, picturing the worst obstacles I can throw in my new hero’s way, measuring how high my herione can leap and building hurdles twice that height. I’ll be plotting without paper. Watching the story develop. Seeing the sway of my heroine’s hips, the swagger of my hero’s purposeful gait. And I’ll be dreaming, hearing their voices. Eager for the moment a blank page turns into the first page of a brand new chapter.