I think I may have reached a new level of writing. Or maybe just come up with an excuse to slack off.
Every once in awhile . . . All right. Every story has a sticking point, and I have to finally grit my teeth and get it down on, well, screen, sentence-by-sentence. The bad ones are word-by-word.
And some just stop. Eventually I move them to the “Story Ideas” file and try to forget them. I’ll poke at them occasionally. My worst crash-and-burn on NaNoWriMo was an attempt to forcibly restart one, a couple of years ago.
But then something goes “click” and I dig one out and get to work.
So, my new writing technique?
I have come to trust my subconscious.
The story I’m currently writing? Hit one of those points, and I just said, “Okay, I’ll go do some editing, I really need to get something out the door . . .”
And a few days later, I’m, like, “Duh! I’m an idiot! The hero can’t just pick up the super weapon and pound the bad guys in the first battle! He’s got to be in dire, desperate, straights before he’ll break out the exceedingly dangerous (never let this fall into enemy hands) super gun, and by then he’ll have to work to get to it. Then it has to be ruined, and the final battle has to be all guts and determination.”
Really, I ought to be honest and publish as “Pam’s Subconscious.”
Anyhow . . . Can I use this in Real Life? Or is it just an excuse to be lazy?
Some of my snap decisions have been the best things I’ve ever done—maybe five seconds max when my company offered me a transfer to the new Houston office. Ahem, from the San Francisco office. Bit of culture shock, that move. First day I was there, I met this Uphoff fellow.
Not that I can credit my subconscious with Tom specifically! But it was a very good move. I’ve bought houses after carefully assessing several . . . and walked into just one more . . . and it was the right one, made an offer.
The current house was . . . interesting. Umm, house hunting out-to-there pregnant with an 18 month old in tow. Child number one was being Very Good. Interested, but a bit clingy as we walked in and out of about five houses.
This one was a bit weird. And the decor? The guy raced motorcycles, the place was decorated in trophies. Not artistically displayed. They were packed four deep everywhere.
Number One Son, who had been scoping out houses all day, while staying within his arms length of me, and sometimes with a grip on my pants leg, let go and trotted into the living room and sat down on the couch like he’d come home.
So of course we bought it.
And still live there.
It’s much more attractive without the wall-to-wall trophies.
So maybe it’s just taken this long for the subconscious to get through to me on the writing, or maybe both conscious and subconscious had to learn how to write.
So, how do your snap decisions—or “something” stopping you from taking that final step—turn out?