Up to chapter 12, I've been very good, if not perfect, with following my outline. I respected what I'd planned out for the book, and it served me well. Of course there were a few minor exceptions, but hey, that's writing, right?
Anyways, I revved up the computer after a few weeks, and lo and behold, nothing happened. No words came out, and suddenly a fear gripped me that the ending of the book will not do it justice.
Justice, you say?
Well, I worked since May of 2008 (a LOT longer if you want to talk about the idea of it) on this book, and I don't want to blow it with "and then they fought." It's just so... predictable, in that cliche, slightly nauseating way.
So I took a little poetic liberty and fudged with the ending a tad, making the last three chapters more logical considering the unanticipated twists and turns the book made.
But, I just feel like I'm on the edge of a cliff, holding my breath and hoping that if I jump, there'll be a deep refreshing lake at the bottom. The thing is I keep envisioning jagged rocks instead of the lake.
Was that a bad analogy?
I know it's supposed to be MY job to finish, but I just want to talk to someone about it, someone who takes me seriously and won't blanch at the thought of werewolves and vampires. I don't even know what I want.
Yes I do.
I want this book to be great.
I want people to like it, and publish it, and read it, and obsess a little.
I want the ending to seamlessly write itself. Then I can take credit for it. OR I'd like the ending to suddenly feel right, because I know it's supposed to. It's not supposed to make my stomach churn or cause me to question even finishing the book.
I want to do well.
And I'm not sure if any of that is going to happen.
I'm gonna go bang my head against a wall.
Comment if you love me.