I just wrote… I don’t even know what that was. I just wrote 2000 words of… no, I honestly don’t know. But my head apparently has some rather dark places in it. I mean, I know what it is. It’s a new chapter of book two of Path (also known by its awesome codename TRTH). But it’s not something I was planning to write. And it’s all raw and vaguely horrifying and rip your heart out and stomp on it a while ish. Basically I am just depressing the hell out of myself with this part of the story. I miss the wacky drunken hijinks.
Also I’m getting an eyeful of why this character wasn’t getting much centre stage in the previous version of this book. There was so not space for me to get in his head. I need some serious room if he’s going to be throwing blood and angst all around the place. And I can’t start that and not follow through. So apparently now he gets his own story strand. No more of this you’ll-just-see-the-end-results-and-be-happy-with-it business. Apparently.
So I’m just sitting here with that vaguely disoriented feeling I always get when the story just… happens by itself and I watch from the backseat going, Ohh…
I wrote about six chapters of Path that way. They were in no way a part of the original plan. I was like two chapters from the end for about three weeks and it just kept… happening. I think the part of my brain that tells me how far the story has to go only looks at the plot and sometimes the characters just shoulder their way in and say, Oh no, this is important for ME. And then they just have their way with the page for a while.
That sounds kind of dirty.
I’m really glad I wrote it and that I get to write the rest of it. But doing so feels a little bit like being trampled. So I’m signing up to be roadkill for this storyline for a while. Ack.
I don’t know. I need… the sleeping thing. Why does my clock sound like a lullaby today?