Well, there is some good news and some bad news. About a month ago I declared finis! and sent my MS out into the world. As I did my final skim/edit for fucked up tabs (thank you, Scrivener), I reflected that the book was not perfect, but I had done everything I could do. I had thought over every word and I hadn’t had a new idea for structure in a good six months or so.
I declared to the whole of my acquaintance that I was never writing again.
“You’re taking a break,” a friend said.
“No, I’m on strike. It sounds better.”
[Aside: Love me, love my melodrama.]
After a few weeks I take up freewriting. I have an article I’m thinking about. I do some reading and take some notes. I have a writing date with a friend at the library. I suddenly remember a book that is relevant to the article. I read a chapter and take more notes and write up some thoughts.
Then it happens. A whole new idea about structuring the damn book. And it’s so fucking obvious, I don’t know why I didn’t think about it years ago. I’m somewhere between ecstatic and heartbroken.
I babbled my new idea to my trusty reader. “Why didn’t I have this idea six months ago,” I wailed to her.
“I know,” she said. After months and years of revisions to her own novel she says, “I feel like I’m ready to start [the novel she just finished].”
When will it end?