It never ceases to amaze, Gentle Reader, when the narrative determines its course rather than the author.
I am not a vain or silly person. I know I have control over the narrative, as it is mine. I am my characters’ god, so to speak. But sometimes, all the planning in the world (and I am not much of a MS planner) cannot stop the juggernaut of narration from moving in a way you didn’t want it or didn’t expect it to move. And that’s where I am now with The Sequel, in a place I hadn’t expected to be this early on. That is, 40K words in, I’ve revealed something I did not expect to reveal until much much later in the book.
Where does this go now? I’m not sure. I am going to mull this over and see what I can do with it from this chapter on. I think I know what I’m doing, but then, I thought I knew what I was doing earlier this morning, when I was writing. Shows what I know, no?
Any surprises from your MS, Friends?
Like what you’ve read? Visit The Life and Times of the Postmodern Bluestocking.