I had an interesting thought the other day...
about the new!Ben&Janni story.
It's not actually Ben's story.
Oh, sure, he's the one getting whumped. His pain (mental, physical, and emotional) drives the plot.
But the story itself is about Angeline and how she grows as a person.
Capitalizing on this realization will require an extensive re-write that I'm, frankly, not sure I have the energy to tackle. Or even the inclination. May I just say that I love the fact that it took me 145,000 words and over a year to realize this. And by "love," I really mean "it makes me want to stab myself in the eyeball, repeatedly, with a letter opener."
I may just chalk this one up to a learning experience. This is akin to the realization I had 70,000 words into the last one that Ben was my real protagonist. At least with that one, it was an easy tweak. This one, not so much.
I hate everything I'm writing right now. I have five fic docs open and no idea where any of them is going. I should just go to the bookstore, or perhaps the coffee shop, and see if a change of scenery and an infusion of real caffeine and sugar helps the process.
The good news is that I've finished three short stories (for a certain value of "short") totaling nearly 23,000 words in the last three months. And they are all out seeking homes. So, I guess that's some sort of accomplishment, and I should hold onto that. Lord knows I don't have any other accomplishments to hold onto; I haven't been paid for my writing in over a year and a half, and it's wearing on me. I remember when this was fun.
Meh.
It's not actually Ben's story.
Oh, sure, he's the one getting whumped. His pain (mental, physical, and emotional) drives the plot.
But the story itself is about Angeline and how she grows as a person.
Capitalizing on this realization will require an extensive re-write that I'm, frankly, not sure I have the energy to tackle. Or even the inclination. May I just say that I love the fact that it took me 145,000 words and over a year to realize this. And by "love," I really mean "it makes me want to stab myself in the eyeball, repeatedly, with a letter opener."
I may just chalk this one up to a learning experience. This is akin to the realization I had 70,000 words into the last one that Ben was my real protagonist. At least with that one, it was an easy tweak. This one, not so much.
I hate everything I'm writing right now. I have five fic docs open and no idea where any of them is going. I should just go to the bookstore, or perhaps the coffee shop, and see if a change of scenery and an infusion of real caffeine and sugar helps the process.
The good news is that I've finished three short stories (for a certain value of "short") totaling nearly 23,000 words in the last three months. And they are all out seeking homes. So, I guess that's some sort of accomplishment, and I should hold onto that. Lord knows I don't have any other accomplishments to hold onto; I haven't been paid for my writing in over a year and a half, and it's wearing on me. I remember when this was fun.
Meh.