I’m on the last half of the last chapter of my second novel Waiting For My Daughter’s Ghost and I’m stuck, I’m flailing. I have no idea what I’m doing.
It suddenly strikes me at how enormous this all is, creating an imaginary world and then populating it with people, building relationships and then guiding those relationships through struggles and strife, forgiveness and redemption and sometimes, even death.
It feels like playing God and maybe it is, in a sense.
God or no god, divine intervention or not, I am struggling. My plot, which I so carefully devised, has shattered and my characters refuse (refuse!) to obey my wishes. Which leaves me with an overwhelmingly complex choice: End the book as I originally intended or follow the lead of my characters.
Which is more authentic? Which is the most honest? Which ending best suits the mood and dynamics of the book?
At this point, I truly don’t know. I need chocolate. And a long bath. And then more chocolate. Which begs the question: Is it possible to write a novel without chocolate? Has anyone ever done it?
My latest obsession: I can’t get enough of the Tiny House Blog. Aren’t the house cute? I so love small houses and cozy spaces. It’s my dream to build a small house on a small plot of land and live and write totally off the grid.