“Books aren’t written–they’re rewritten. Including your own. It is one of the hardest things to accept, especially after the seventh rewrite hasn’t quite done it.”
(This has my name written all over it.)
The rain blew in again last night and with it, another headache. The barometric pressure shifts wreak havoc on my head. Needless to say, I was awake again at 3 am. As other writers out there can I’m sure attest, laying somewhere between wake and sleep in the middle of the night, headache or not, conjures streams of dialogue, characters voices overriding your own and a general rush of random information. Needless to say, I was awake for a while. It’s still nastily grey out with glooming drizzle. Really do hate that.
Good news: I made major headway with my continually frustrating WIP, The Duck Pond. I’ve written a few posts about this novel. I’ve been trying to write it for so long, I was beginning to think maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe I was pushing too hard, trying too hard. Maybe I was too close to the subject matter. Maybe it was simply too hard to write. Then out of nowhere, the gates opened and I found my in. I finally feel like I know where I am going with it, which road to take. This novel, unlike my others, isn’t a YA work of fantasy or paranormal romance, it is YA realism. I generally stay away from realism, it just doesn’t interest me all that much in novels. This book however, is different. It’s close to my heart and although searingly hard to write, needs to be written. It has taken me years to find my way in to this WIP, to find a way to make it read like it needs to.
Ah, the streams of our imagination and how they come together at the most unexpected of times. Some days being a writer is very rewarding to the soul. Where do your inspirations come from?