Tag Archives: battle

Honesty

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So I plunged back into my book yesterday. To actually writing and brainstorming on paper rather than just contemplating. Yesterday I was cementing the culture of the book more firmly in my mind. (Reading history books is excellent stimulation.) But today a new scene started playing in my mind. An emotional and telling scene for the protagonist.

Listening and transcribing what she was saying during an emotional outburst, and thinking about the truth in her admissions, I found myself, yet again, saying: what the heck am I thinking? I can’t write something like this. Well, I can, but how can I publish it? Is the world ready for something like this? Can they accept a character like this?

I know some can (like me), but the majority? Will they misunderstand her and abuse her with their false beliefs? Can they see and accept the darkness and the light at the same time? Will they believe her: that these two extremes exist in one person?

I know that other characters may share versions of different traits and struggles, but none are her. None have her combination. I don’t know any like her. So there’s no one to be the guinea pig. No one to test the market. And those characters that I think could identify with her and be friends with her…Well, I’m not sure how the rest of the world feels about them.

She’s closer than a daughter, and closer than a friend. Our relationship is different than either, and my feeling-levels vary from those presets. She’s in a category of her own. I am protective of her, and yet so very proud of her. But can readers possibly catch a glimpse of what I see?

I’m the only thing between her and the world, and the only one that can bring her to the world. I am the river and the bridge. I can’t cover parts of her because readers may ridicule her for it, or simply misunderstand her, which is so much worse. She wants to be honest with the world, and I must let her.

So today, I resisted the urge. I let her say everything she felt, and I wrote it unabridged, though I did cringe on occasion. Not because I dislike it, but because it goes against every protective instinct I have to let her be so transparent. But I did it. And I determined yet again (you see, I go through this battle quite often) that I must write the entire book this way. I can’t muffle her. The readers can either accept her or not. They can love her or not. But she will be real. It must be unabridged.

I hope, one day, you get to love her as I do. 🙂

Ciao

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Battle Won

Christus in the storm on the lake; Rembrandt (...

Christus in the storm on the lake; Rembrandt (1633) 160 x 127cm, stolen from Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have been struggling with a segment in my draft. I found a stopping place, but, when I returned, I could not find my starting place. I was stuck. I would sit down to write and stare at my page waiting for the words to form in my mind. But the few words that sprouted were wrong. All wrong. I couldn’t figure it out. I knew what came next next, but I didn’t know how to get there. There had to be a path, but I could not see it. My creativity was trapped in the future. So what could I do now?

Every day I came back to it. I sat and stared, and stared some more. A sentence would come to me. I would write it down. Then I would scratch it out. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. I could not solve this puzzle. All I could do was stare at the blank grey of the huge boulder in my path.

It had been several days (cue: something’s about to happen) and still no useful words, no genius, no creativity for the present. I strolled into the kitchen for a drink (water… I wasn’t that discouraged) and turned to head back to the show I was watching. I had not been writing. The battle continued in my mind, but I was resting in the midst of it, letting it crop up here and there with a serious concern. But all that changed. In the moment it took me to walk from the kitchen to the living room, the thought formulated in my mind, transporting me to the land of writing.

When I think back to my surroundings at the time, all I can see is the white fog of a cloud. I guess that’s where my book resides: in the middle of a cloud, in my mind. 🙂

Two sentences. That’s all it took. Two sentences were my ‘bridge over troubled waters’. I immediately commenced the writing of the literary bridge in my notebook. Beautiful. I was elated. The little writer inside was jumping up and down, and thinking egotistical thoughts. The battle was suddenly amazing. It was beyond a silver-lined storm cloud. It was bright and shining, and incredibly worthwhile. (Waiting can be a gift in disguise.)

I love these experiences. It doesn’t matter how many times I have them, seemingly. It is an amazing thing to work, anguish, and despair over a novel. And it is amazing to revel in the beauty and wonder of the creation, and creating. The one increases the other. Don’t trade the ‘roller coaster’ for easy boredom. 🙂

Battle won. Now, on to the war. 😉

Ciao

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