My writing sessions were always so engrossing, I didn't want to stop. Today I stopped an hour before the buzzer. My heart's just not in it. I wrote some good prose, some not so good prose, but I don't know where I'll place it.
It's not that the story is bad, but I'm going around in circles, circumventing obvious holes in the narrative; writing words to avoid getting to the point ~ a point that I haven't been able to find.
The big problem is the words that were previously written. I like them; I don't want to scuttle them. But if I simply insert my new narrative in the middle, it'll read like a story written by a schizophrenic.
I most likely need to isolate the different pieces, like deconstructing a jigsaw puzzle; then reassembling them to create a new puzzle.
My newly introduced character needs to cause more havoc, but I'm out of ideas. Instinctively I know that everything that happens to my MC leads to more desperate actions on the new character's part. I just wish someone would tell me what that final desperate action is. My big final incident, as written, has absolutely nothing to do with this new character who's occupying so much psychic space.
All my previous stories proceeded smoothly. I never, ever went back and added to them. I never agonized over them. They were fun to write. This one is not fun. If I ever finish it, I should price it at one million dollars, to account for all my pain.
No, I'm not ready to give up. I don't give up.
But this story is about to kill me.
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