This week in the wonderful world of writing-frenzy, I'm struggling a little.
I'm a few thousand words behind word count. I mean, not to the point that it's going to be impossible to catch up, but still. I'm behind.
And it's all because I think I've written my poor little characters into a corner that I am not a fan of, and I'm not quite sure how to get them out of it without GOING BACK and REVISING which are kind of the only NaNo-NoNos.
And the only other way I can see getting the out of this stupid, pointy corner is to change the ending I've conceived of all along.
I am loath to do that.
When I started this, I had a very specific vision of the ending. It was going to be spectacular and breathtaking and leave my eventual-readers going "Oh!" But not in a cliffhanger-way. This was going to be in a "I-can't-believe-she-did-that" kind of way. And I was all excited about it. The ending was what was really going to make this book different and leave every pub house IN THE WORLD clamoring to buy it up.*
And now I think I have to change it. Or go back and revise. Or something.
So those are my writing woes for this week. Hopefully after going to brunch and getting day drunk and then seeing Breaking Dawn will give me some INSPIRATION. *grins*
And, for those of you who have any sort of interest in what my crazy draft-writing contains, here is your snippet for the week (Be warned! There are probs typos/word-choice issues. You may judge, just don't judge too harshly.):
As I turned to go to the register, I ran into a person. I still had my headphones in, so I mumbled an apology without looking up and kept making my way to the front of store. But I realized I wasn’t going very far since the person I ran into had grabbed my hand, which was highly weird. With my free hand I yanked the headphones out of my ears and whipped around, trying all the while to free my enslaved hand.
“Um, please let go of . . . ” my words trailed off as my brain recognized the person I was looking at. Then I picked up again with, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” If there was ever any doubt I was a New Yorker through and through, it was all lost with that exclamation.
©Bethany Larson, 2011
*I do not know if this is going to happen as I am not any sort of oracle or psychic. If I were, this whole writing a book endeavor would probably be MUCH EASIER.