The Spectator Games

stockvault-vintage-admit-one-ticket-x3151683“Hands off!” is a mentality wickedly hard for writers to embrace.

It is our nature, it is our joy to hen-peck every detail.

From set design, to cinematography, to location scouting, to directing our characters with a Stanley Kubrick-like obsession for that one perfect take, we want a hand in every aspect of a story.

At least I do.

(For the purposes of this blog, please pretend that I am a “normal” writer. Thank you.)

So, it is remarkably difficult and frankly a little bit maddening to stand back and let a story tell itself.

Yep, talking about Book Three of “The Lion and the Steed” series here.

You remember, that fiendishly ornery tale whose tail overtook its bellybutton last week? The one whose carefully plotted ending simply refused to wait to the end to be told?

Yep, that little beast.

Well, I’ve finally admitted to myself that Book Three is no longer my own production. It has struggled and squirmed out of my hands altogether.

Now, I must simply stand back and watch where the story will take me.

I hate that.

Mostly.

A part of me, a tee-tiny, itty-bitty speck of me is kind of excited to see where my boys will lead me.

So, with much grumbling and fussing and fuming I am trying my darnedest to keep my hands off this production.

It ain’t easy.

And I hate it.

Mostly.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

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