Early last week I was kidnapped. It was dire situation. I was sitting here minding my own business, trying to write and do the things that a struggling writer does. That morning I was more struggling than writing.
I was kidnapped by a germ that infiltrated my body like the Russian Army on maneuvers. I was definitely under attack by some foreign power that grabbed me, threw me into a warm bed, and shook my body for three, long, miserable days. I was given food and water. The water I could handle. The food I kept giving back.
And then a little sunshine started to seep in on day four. The shackles around my shivering body were removed. Solid food was delivered and consumed. It seems someone had negotiated my release from the depths of intestinal hell. And boy was it about time!
During the ordeal I was barely capable of abstract thought, much less creative genius. You may note the word count meter over there —>
is frozen at a little over four thousand.
I decided to take the weekend off and regroup. Before the attack of the unforgiving flu, I was already starting to recognize that the sequel to Haunting Injustice was not coming together as I had hoped. I don’t know if you can relate, but as I was tapping out on the keyboard the opening to book II, I just was not – “Feeling It.”
So in my regroup period I started looking at where I was and where I was trying to go with the story. It occurred to me that I was straying too far from what made Haunting Injustice (now at sale at Amazon) such a great story. I was turning it into a murder mystery and getting away from the ghost story. I have decided to go back to the drawing board. I have some ideas that I want to map out and see how they plot against what I have in mind.
Come to think of it, I am being kidnapped once again….
… by the dreaded “Re-Write.”
And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt. ~Sylvia Plath