By no means do I consider this a blog for writers. I hope you’ve noticed that by now. I don’t give a lot of advice or interview a lot of authors on how to write. I mean, I definitely want to encourage fledgling writers out there, but this isn’t the blog to get the most information about how to become a writer.
Instead this is a writer’s blog.
As such, I feel compelled to share with you an anecdote from the other night. To set the scene, I was sitting at the dining room table with my revision notes spread out around my laptop. I was busy rewriting a scene that my editor didn’t particularly care for. In this scene my hero and heroine were having a fight, a nasty one, and it made me terribly sad. Just then my roommate Tracy walked into the kitchen and asked how things were going.
“Okay, I guess,” I sighed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I’m just so sad. My characters are having a terrible fight. I think I’ll have to re-read the end of the book to remind myself that it all turns out okay.”
She looked kind of a confused and said, “But didn’t you write it?”
Hmmm. I did indeed write it.
These writers are strange people, I think. Myself definitely included. Oh, well. I didn’t even try to explain the complex workings of my weird, weird writer mind. Suffice it to say, I did re-read the ending, and I was infinitely happy with how things turned out.
Even if I already knew that’s how they would end.