About a week ago, I was writing at Little Portion.  Little Portion is my favorite place to write, and much of my book has been written on the couch in their library.  I write best at Little Portion, so it’s a good thing I figured that out.  Anyway, I was writing and I was thinking about the rest of the book, trying to figure out what’s missing and all that jazz.  I had consciously sort of decided that I wasn’t going to address the Crucifixion and Resurrection in my book, even though it’s an allegory.  I don’t know how I would do that, and, quite frankly, I don’t think I could do it well.  And, as I was writing, I realized that the direction the scene I was working on was going would lead right to my needing to figure out how to address the Crucifixion and Resurrection.  I texted Stephanie sort of freaking out and she told me to just write like she always does.  She’s such a calming influence on my process, and this book would not be the same without her.  Anyway, when I finished writing for the night/week, I sort of put it out of my mind because it was time to kick it into high gear with finals.

Yesterday, I got a few hours to write at Little Portion, and I did.  I typed up the newer sections of Symilia, and wrote a little bit of connective tissue.  Today, I’m back on the couch and I’ve been working on where I left off.  I’m now in the middle of a pretty amazing scene, which, a week ago, I was terrified to have to try to write.

I’m always amazed by this book, and I love it so much.  As much as I want it to be finished so that the rest of the world can see it, I’m quite pleased to have Elliott and the crew to myself.  I guess I keep learning that I have to just trust the story to come.  This semester, I neglected the book, or at least, that’s how it seemed to me.  I was so sick, and I had no audience and no feedback.  No one was talking.  So, I didn’t really make an effort.  This turned out to be a very good thing.  I wasn’t physically capable of writing and giving Symilia the attention and energy it (she? he?) deserved.  Now that I’ve been feeling better, it’s made it very easy for me to write.  I want to write now, and for the most part, the story wants to be written now.

So, now I’m waiting for the story to tell me what Elliott’s mother’s name should be, and what story he should tell.  It seems like instead of death, we’re going to just have a rebirth.  In my mind, I’m seeing the scene where Beast transforms into the hunky prince- lots of light bathing everything and cool magic, but applied to the entire universe.  We’ll see what happens, but now I know that I need to stop doubting my story and I need to just trust it.  I talk about how I’m not in control and I like it better that way because the story is so much better than anything I could have ever come up with, but I always panic when I’m not writing or when it takes an unexpected turn (and every turn is unexpected).  The next time I freak out, someone needs to slap me and tell me to quit my bitching and get back to writing.  Deal?

 

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