|Cover # 17 I think I'm |
keeping this one
That being said, during the latter half of the summer, when I was writing the heart of the project, I noticed that the story would not end. Every time I came up with an ending, I found another piece of the puzzle that needed to be shored up. I know as a reader, I would not like to ask at the end of the book, "what happened to...?"
So, I let the story go where it wanted to. A friend of mine used to have as her tagline, "My characters write the stories. I just take dictation." (She's not online anymore, but her name is February Grace. I believe she's on Twitter. Phenomenal storyteller.)
For the last third of my story, I let the characters decide what they wanted to happen because quite frankly, they weren't doing what I wanted them to anyway.
Sometimes, it's the craziest moments when everything comes together.
We had just gotten back to school. I was nearly finished with the book. I was flat-out with gift card responsibilities, volleyball season had started, and the principal asked me to be on semi-permanent car-line duties. I needed to finish the book, but it just wouldn't end.
And then it hit me--because I was thinking it was supposed to be over. Everyone had gotten what they wanted. But not really. It wasn't as if there were loose ends, the story just felt like it had been cut short. There should be more.
Who am I to argue?
I slaved over the last three chapters wanting to make sure I got every little nuance that I had written at the beginning. There were quite a few I have to say. However, I love writing intricacies in a story. It allows a farther reach for the character to develop.
I rewrote the ending four times. Completely. At least 1500-2500 words each time. I wanted to have the "perfect" ending. When I finished, I felt satisfied I had a good product.
And then it hit me. I had just written another five-act structured novel. I was following a pattern. My contemporary women's fiction were both five-acts. My Regencies were not. Neither are the murder mysteries.
One of the very first rejection letters I received in my young career mentioned my "purple prose." I tend to write very long flowery sentences-- a throwback to what I used to read during my formative years. I guess I still do it, only in a different genre.
Women's fiction is supposed to mimic real life. Well, life has a way of moving up and down. Yes, sometimes, when we think the worst is over, another wave comes crashing in to unsettle us again for however, how long. For those of you who are lucky enough, the second wave brings good news.
Well, now the book is finished and out in the world. Yes, I still have to go through it and have my trusted writing friends go through it, but I needed to get it out of my computer for me to be able to move on.
It's called a "soft opening." I just sort of learned that/remembered that phrase a couple of days ago. More on this in another post.
Robynne Rand (c) 2017