If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, you probably realize that this weekend I had an epiphany. Well, something like that.
This is what happened (you knew it was going to be a story, didn’t you):
Friday I was in a crisis of plot and characterization for That Ain’t No Bull manuscript. I was at the black moment and I just couldn’t go on. Not like I was going to throw myself off the building or anything, but I couldn’t keep writing that story. It was really bothering me. I mean, I think it’s good (of course I do), but I felt as though I was losing the thread. My heroine is snarky and insane yet her black moment turned her into a daytime soap star. It was too melodramatic and I couldn’t figure out how to fix it.
My solution was to send it to one of my CPs and let her look at it. But what to do while she was looking it over? Well, if you follow my blog, you’ll remember that I have a method for clearing my mind of unnecessary thoughts when I’m stuck on a project. So that’s what I did, except this time I was going to actually plot. Me. Plotting. I thought the sky would fall.
So I did what this handy little mini-plotting course I signed up for said to do. I had it all planned out and I started writing. I was maybe 1200 words in when I realized…I hated it. My heroine wasn’t snarky enough, there wasn’t enough danger, and there wasn’t enough humor. Then I remembered an idea I had while using the bathroom at work (writers get ideas in the weirdest places). What could be funnier than someone passing code on toilet paper in the bathroom? You ladies know how it is: you use the bathroom and realize there’s no toilet paper in your stall. What to do? Yell to the person in the stall next to you and ask if they have toilet paper. We have to help each other out, you know.
So that’s where I started the story and to my utter surprise, I couldn’t stop writing. Friday afternoon I think I churned out about four thousand words. Saturday morning, I went to get a pedicure and then headed to the coffee shop to write some more. By the time I stopped to meet up with my sister for lunch, my side project had blossomed by another four thousand words. *dead faint* But it didn’t stop there.
I don’t normally write on the weekends. I have a routine and I stick to it, but this story wouldn’t leave me alone. I took a nap when I got home and then hopped right back on the story like a bronco rider. The side project grew by leaps and bounds until I was looking at 10k words. What was going on? When I found myself back at the keyboard yesterday morning, I knew I was onto something. I would write, write some more, then take a break, write some more and by the time I went to bed last night, I had 18k words. That’s eighteen THOUSAND words!
And I’m not finished. Oh no, I can’t even think about That Ain’t No Bull right now. No, my mind is firmly fixated on this story which is like Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson and the Olympians meets Krelsey Cole’s Immortals After Dark. Or something like that. I still haven’t come up with a logline, blurb, or synopsis yet, but I can’t be bothered by insignificant details right now! My muse, my lovely, supporting, slave driving muse, has taken over my brain.
What’s it called? I’m not sure yet and that’s a surprise since I’m a person who has to have a title before I can write. At this point, it’s unimportant.
What do you do when the “fire” is upon you? Do you go with the flow, or do you try to ignore it?