I don’t remember an alcohol beverage in the last half of my manuscript…sure feels like I was totally wasted.
Normally I have a single drink when I consume alcohol. I know what being drunk feels like, like come on, we were all young once. There was something that happened in the middle of my newest story that made me feel that all my marbles rolled right out of my head and all over the floor. I know that I can’t even blame being drunk.
I love this hobby that I’ve chosen to dig deeper into. It’s a passion that burns within me. This incident made me reconsider my life choices.
I’ve Become to Much of a Dreamer.
Here’s the deal. I had written 80,000 words in my new story. I breathed life into the characters. The setting couldn’t have been more magical, and the plot twists left this yearning. The fourth draft gem was almost ready for a polish. As I read the words I noticed this tiny problem that seemed to rip until all the words dripped from the pages with my tears.
I Dreamt Up the Best Part…
I remember pounding in the words to this part. It was an almost all nighter. The piece was so juicy that I ignored my own blatter to write…and there in the pages of the story I bled. The characters connected better than I thought they would. Their unlikely team blended together better than cake and icing. The creation of such a piece made me write day after day off of that part.
Until, last Thursday. I needed a small bite of information that was in the story. A bite that didn’t exist…it wasn’t there. The piece that I had fallen in love with had vanished. No, it wasn’t lost from not saving. The chapters never had a skip. The more I thought about the writing experience, and where I was at the time that I wrote it. The whole thing didn’t make sense. My desk was in the wrong spot, there wasn’t anything on the walls, and my cat never interrupted me. All things that brought me to the conclusion…I dreamt up the perfect part.
Here’s Why I Didn’t Catch It.
I don’t read back into my script until I have finished writing it. I spend to much time messing up my story if I do. I only go back to find the small things, if it’s important. I didn’t do this with my first book and spent too much time editing when I should have been writing. I’m glad that I did go back this time, or I would have finished the story with a gaping hole. It wasn’t even something I could add in…I couldn’t remember it. I could only remember the feeling it gave me.
And that will end this entry to the journal of being a writer…Today’s mood towards it:
Today’s mood towards being a writer: …no comment.
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