I have reached the end of the book in the current draft, which is not the same as saying I’ve finished the draft but is close. I still have to take another quick spin through to double-check the changes and then possibly proofread, because that’s always a good time.
I am actually super excited about it though, mostly because I figured out a way to put something into the book that I had to leave out in the first book. It’s not a big thing. Really. It’s a tiny thing. A tiny miniscule I-bet-my-beta-readers-don’t-even-notice-it thing. But I am very happy about it anyway.
It’s this little piece that I wrote for what ended up being the third to last scene in the entire book and I wrote it way in advance, which could have been the kiss of death in and of itself. Although previously I have always written out of sequence and then jumped about stitching things together this book plowed through those habits like a freight train of linear plotting.
It was kind of eerie honestly. And every now and then I would rebelliously write something for later on anyway. But I had to stop doing it because every time I did it ended in tragedy. Whatever I wrote had to be shredded if not thrown away entirely because the timing was wrong, the pace was off, the emotional pitch wasn’t right. It drove me up the wall so I mostly stopped doing it except unintentionally.
This piece was unintentional. The kind of unintentional that happens in the middle of the night when I wake up, spew words at my laptop and then drop unconscious again. And which led to me quite seriously banging my head against the keyboard the next morning when I read what I’d written. Because I’d written the scene backwards — the two character’s playing each other’s roles in the scene instead of their own. It was hilarious, but also terrible and wrong and really not helpful.
And it was a real shame because other than the fact that it was shatteringly inappropriate it was a pretty good chunk of text. Still. Never going in the book.
I was sad about it though. I pouted. I stared at it every now and then and willed it to make sense in context. It didn’t.
Eventually I let it go.
But then today I looked at it again (okay, so I’m not that good at letting go) and I did a thing with a switchblade and took it apart. And separated from the context that was provided by considering at it as a whole it suddenly wasn’t quite so wrong. And I snuck part of it into the book and then just grinned all over the places for a few minutes. (There was no one home, I can get away with that kind of thing.)
And the other part… well, I think that’ll find a home in the second book. So this? This right here? This is a good day.
* Neil Gaiman’s line, of course.