When writing a short story there are bound to be bumps along the way. I expect them, plan for them accordingly. I always buckle up, have my cell phone fully charged and my GPS blinking happily on my driver’s dash.
Keeping my eyes peeled for detours that lead only to dead ends, keeping my gaze locked on the briefly sketched out road ahead, I try to ignore the occasional supporting character who suddenly leaps out in front of my car in hopes of making a splash in the story.
Pesky billboards advertising all the goodies just an exit and a few blind miles off to the side, I read but generally dismiss, jotting down in my head the most interesting ones. After all, there will always be more trips.
With a wary eye to the thunderheads always building to the north, I’m very good at keeping to the writing track I’ve set my GPS to. Once that outline is made, the destination marked in my head, the roads I need to take to get there relatively clear, it’s only a matter of time before Chloe Stowe pulls into the big “The End.”
*clears my throat, tugs a little nervously on my sleeves*
*more throat clearing, followed by a nervous laugh*
Clear out of the blue…
A big, meaty hand reaches down and shakes the shit out of your story world!
Roads are broken, cardinal points on the map are scattered and lost, travelling companions are morphed into unrecognizable characters. The most alarming sight, however, is finding that the big “The End” now lies on the cusp of a completely different horizon.
But what is most aggravating, what makes the writer grit their teeth down to pearly nubs, is the fact that the big, meaty hand –you know, the one who has just scrambled your universe- is really just a clumsily executed, brilliantly violent stroke of inspiration!
Or is that just me? Perhaps I just need to up my meds a tick? Anything is possible in my head, but…
…I’m really liking how the big, meaty hand has rocked Sicily’s world. “Sicily,” my short story project aimed at Carina Press, had been struggling along, moving where I’d wanted it to go but not dancing toward that finish line as I had hoped.
Then “Wham!”… Inspiration struck like a 7.2 earthquake yesterday afternoon and readjusted the whole freaking landscape of my “Sicily.”
I’m still a little in shock at the devastation and the (cross my fingers) potential awesomeness it has wrought.
So please pardon this post – this giant metaphor, analogy, simile-thing that has morphed into a giant pile of ungainly literary throw-up.
Blame it on the shock. This writer’s world was just rocked.
Details to follow on the state of “Sicily” as soon as I clear away a little bit of the rubble.