Writing Risks
A conversation with my editor opened up my novel again, so I’m playing with ideas and first-drafting new scenes once more. It feels like I’m stepping into a wobbly canoe that might get sucked towards a waterfall. Part of me longs to stay on shore where I can tinker with other sections of the novel that are further along, but I can’t have a whole book until I manage these plot holes properly.
All writing feels risky, but sometimes it’s hard to tell if the risk is based on the true story, or if the risk is just a poor choice. In one case, I’ll explore an intriguing, edgy idea, and in the other, I’ll mire in confusing, boring scenes. That’s terrifying, believe me.
From where I’m sitting, I have a view of fresh flowers to cheer me, but the real view is into this puzzle of a book. Today, I aspire to be not the brave canoeist, but the river.
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