I just tossed out about the last 4,000 words I'd written for the novel-in-progress -- almost a week's worth of work. My subconscious had been trying to tell me for the last few days that this was the wrong path, the Big Clue being that rather than being eager to write the scenes I was writing, I was having to force myself to sit down and work. For me, that's often a sign that something's wrong. Last night I asked myself the hard question about whether or not the section I was writing was actually contributing significantly to the protagonist's character arc, and the honest answer was "no, not really."
So this morning I performed the surgery, cutting the scenes, saving the few bits I needed for plot purposes, and moving the rest aside. No, I didn't delete the scenes -- I've kept them, in case I change my mind, but I don't think I will.
Sometimes, making forward progress requires going backwards.
So this morning I performed the surgery, cutting the scenes, saving the few bits I needed for plot purposes, and moving the rest aside. No, I didn't delete the scenes -- I've kept them, in case I change my mind, but I don't think I will.
Sometimes, making forward progress requires going backwards.
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I hope we can find the time at bubonicon to visit, maybe grab a bite to eat in a group of substantially less than 20 people. :)
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Bubonicon is pretty packed for me, but hopefully we'll have a chance to sit down and talk!