Arrrrrgh! That is the sound of one writer pounding her head against the wall. The. book. is. not. going. well. Did I say it was? I did, didn’t I? I was all cocky and confident that I would be done by the end of the week. I know the book will be done (I really have no choice, I NEED to turn this in by June 15th and I will, but god, it’s going to be a Herculean climb up the mountain to finish it.)
The problem is I have a beginning and an ending but no middle. I need to slow down the action, expand the characters, keep the mystery going. And I’m going to do all that. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I am going to whip the first 150 pages into shape, so that the second 100 pages will just write itself.
Today I am going to bang my head against the wall and curse myself for even wanting to write this book in the first place.
What is Angels on Sunset Boulevard about?
-Why some people always seem to be having more fun at a party than you are.
Doesn’t that sound like a good book? I thought so. But I have so many storylines and subplots and the book is a mess right now. I know that in two weeks it will be fine, that I will have a decent first draft. I have been here before and I know I can pull this book out of my psyche like I have done before with my other books. But right now I’m just suffering…
God, I’m whining…