Today I wrote a couple of thousand words, but most of those were in a new bit of short fiction I started fresh today. The last two scenes I need to rewrite for the novel I’m editing remain incomplete.
Writing the new story came easily. Writing the few words I added to the old story felt ponderous and unpleasant. I don’t think its a matter of the quality of the words, or of the stories. I think its all a matter of the point of progress on the story.
I love the beginning of a story. It’s full of promise. There are unlimited possibilities. The further I go the more difficult the writing becomes.
When I approached a book I wrote some time ago and decided to try to rebuild the ending into something awesome I should have known the feeling I would have by this point. I feel like the ending must be inevitable.
This post is largely about feelings, but I think these feelings come from my education as a writer. The Writing Excuses Podcast, in specific, while a wonderful show, has ingrained in me a feeling that structural adherence is vital to making the best stories.
Once upon a time I patently rejected that idea. And that’s when I wrote the book I’m editing now.
Structure is a fine tool for building a better book. The lie is that it is the only way to build a good book.
I’m past thinking any of this will help me enjoy my work more, or help me become more productive. I can’t give up, but I don’t dare hope to find a tool for change so easily.
Thanks for reading.