Woke up at 6 this morning. Been awhile since I’ve done that, woke up early to write. That old familiar dawn light, the flare of of the gas burner’s blue under the kettle in the dark kitchen. Booting up the computer while I wash sleep away from my face. Mug of tea in hand, I sat down at the computer and opened old files. Vampire Revolution.
I looked at the 30,000 or so words I had written last December. The final panicked race to finish what I had thought was the end of Book 3 but in truth had been the beginning of Book 4. How hurried it read, how it devolved slowly, page to page, into summary instead of narrative. Those 30k when fleshed out will be 50. Then I reached the point where my fever broke, the plot stopped making sense, and I stopped writing. I sat back and stared. Selah standing, furious, facing vampires with a frozen snarl. Where she was, and how she’d gotten there, simply didn’t make sense. As my old English literature prof would say: weak sauce.
So I started thinking it through. Drank my tea, wrote my way out of the foxhole by asking questions and posing answers. This is the part I love, the part that’s pure sublime literary crack for me – when your novel answers your questions for you, when the answers appear by themselves due to the novel’s internal logic and you realize that the solution was there all along. You just weren’t seeing it.
One moment it was mired knee deep in the Bog of Eternal Stench, the next I was off to the races. If this happens, then that would happen, which would lead to this, and this, and this. Suddenly, what had been weak and diluted became necessary and imperious.
With the ending in place I can get to work.
This is the first dawn that I’ve risen to in a long, long time, but tomorrow I’ll rise to another, and then again. This is it – I’m finally going to finish The Human Revolt in grand style.