Yeesh, it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to write out a blog post like this. Over a month, in fact. There’s something freeing about this type of post, where I can just sit down and let whatever I’m feeling pour out. I don’t need to worry about you guys not gathering everything I’m saying because there isn’t really anything for you to gather. I guess what I mean is that I’m not teaching, I’m just talking. It’s hella relaxing, I’ll tell you what.
If you also follow my YouTube channel (check it out here), then you’ll know that the result of this debate has been decided for a while now. Honestly, it may have been decided while I was writing part 1. There’s a solid chance that writing that post completely talked me into my decision, which is: I’m self-publishing! Yay!
Lately, I’ve noticed that a lot of people in my life seem to discredit the fact that my writing–and everything that goes along with it, from research to marketing and more–is actually work. I’ve had people say to me, over and over again, “Wow, you’re so lucky, you just get to sit around and write all day!” And, I mean, yeah. I am lucky. Or, at least, I will be when that’s my full time job and I’m able to support myself with it. But, the thing is, even when I do reach that point, it isn’t going to be all fun and games. In fact, it’ll be less fun and games than it is right now.
Do you know what the most important point in a book is? Spoiler: It’s the climax. Do you know the most important thing to be able to write as an author? Double spoiler: Also the climax. Do you know what I absolutely drop the ball at every time? Triple-dog spoiler: The Climax.
You know how, when you’re little, you hear somebody say something once and, no matter how incredibly wrong that thing is, you believed it wholeheartedly? For example, when I was in the fourth grade, one of my friends “informed” me that babies were made by the mommy and daddy running around their bed naked. Yeah. And for literal years I honestly thought that was how babies were made. Even when I was old enough to think, “Huh, that doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense,” I couldn’t be convinced otherwise… Well, until one fateful day in health class when they showed us a video chronicling the life of a baby from conception to birth. That… changed things. *shudder*
So I finally finished rewriting, editing, and revising (yes, all three of those are different things) the first half of my novel, which I figured meant that I should update the three people who follow this blog on my progress and where I’m going from here.
I’m not going to lie, I’m writing this post as a means to ignore the question that’s been attempting to pound down the metaphorical door in my brain for the past month: Should I cut this scene, even if it’s one of my favorites?
“The allure of the shiny thing” is a term coined by the writing professor I had for my first two semesters here at college, Marcia Brenner. This magnificent woman (a woman who graced the world with my favorite quote of all time: “Trump is like the Krampus of politics. We got him because we were bad.”) has bestowed upon me most of the life-changing knowledge about writing that I’ve gained so far while I’ve been attending college. All of my other teachers are great, don’t get me wrong, but it’s Marcia that has literally changed my writing life for the better. She’s the one who taught me about rewrites, and the different writing forms, and the allure of the shiny thing.
So a while ago I made a post about how I was working on a rewrite of my novel. Remember? I was super hyped about it? Well… I’M STILL HYPED! Y’all, I’m so excited about how this rewrite is going. It just feels like the one, you know? Like, this is it. I mean, I’ll still need to go through everything I’ve written after this and do a few minor edits, but this is definitely the version I’m going to be sending off to agents. That’s enough to push me faster than ever toward the finish line.
If you’re an author, you probably know what I’m talking about. Those moments when you’re just sitting there, not really doing anything, and then… WHAM. An idea hits you like a sack of bricks. And then, suddenly, that plot hole you’ve been worrying over for months has somehow fixed itself in one instant of creative genius. It’s a revelation. A magical experience where you want to call everyone you’ve ever known and tell them all about this fantastic idea you had, even if they don’t know that you’re writing a novel, much less what said novel is about.