So I had a long talk with myself.

The degree to which my brain is preoccupied with the novel is immeasurable. To say “all the time” is obviously an exaggeration, but for most of my waking hours, a large portion of my thoughts are centered around moving the plot forward and sharpening characters. The story has been with me for one year and nine months, and though some arcs and twists have changed on their own account, the primary bones of the plot are the same as they were when they first materialized. A few people have read what I’ve written so far and their feedback has helped me to consider a myriad of edits.

untold story

That being said, one particular plot hole has been nagging me for a while and an idea on how to fill it finally arrived on Friday afternoon. POOF! It was a spontaneous manifestation, just like everything else, but it struck me so bluntly that I’m consumed with how to handle it.

Yesterday, I took Major to some trails we frequent so he could run and I could think. What proceeded was a full-on argument in my head.

Me: I don’t know if I should do this.

      Other Me: Yes you do.

But this is all so sudden. How do I know it’s the right thing?

      You don’t know anything for sure.

But it seems like such a task to go backwards.

      But this moves the plot forward.

But it will involve going back to the beginning and rewriting —


Then I’ll have to go through the whole book and make sure this will make sense.

      You’ll have to do that anyway.

What if I’m being impulsive?

      What if you’re being inspired?

Maybe this idea should be saved for the next story?

      It’s for this one.

But maybe it’s not?

      You know it’s for this one.

What if the people who’ve already read it don’t like what I’ve done?

      It’s not their book.

Yeah, but I want everyone to like —

      Don’t start that crap. Write your book.

If people don’t like it, they won’t buy it. It won’t even get published. No one will take a chance on me and I will have done this for nothing and I’ll have so much regret and this will all be a waste.

      Seriously, don’t start that.

I’m really worried.

      Because you’re exposed.

I love it so much.

      Me too. 

I’m tired.

     So stop fighting and write your book.


Contented, I went on with the last leg of the hike observing all the new growth and watching Major frolic through the brush. Then I saw a snake, so I screamed and ran my ass back to the car.



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