Move Along, Nothing to See Here
Happy Labor Day, Writer Friends! I hope you’re celebrating in whatever ways you desire.
Me? I’m cleaning the entire house, including the porches. I even had my son clean out his goldfish bowl. For those of you who know me, this is deeply frightening, since me voluntarily cleaning is one of the sure signs of the Apocalypse.
It may very well be the End Times, Friends. Because if the Four Horsemen came to my door this morning and asked me for directions to the party, I would point them to my hard drive. I’m pretty sure my current WIP is possessed. Or something.
It’s scaring me like this anyway.
By possessed I mean that it’s taken on a life of its own – and not one I would have chosen for it. It’s gone from merely tragic to horrifically frightening (for me at least). And while it has all the beautiful images I like to play with, the things that some of the characters are doing? Oh, holy cow.
It’s all I can do to sit down and keep writing. I’m terrified, and my own characters are making me cry. Betrayals galore, terrible secrets revealed at great expense to the helpless children there… I think I’ll stop now and go clean the mud room and pantry.
No. I can’t.
The manuscript is calling, in its horrifying little Carol Anne-from-Poltergeist voice. I have to go back into the closet, and figure out if I’m just mining my own well of crazy, or if the story knows what it’s doing.
Or maybe both.
Beta readers? Be afraid. Be very afraid.