This morning I started developing a deliciously wicked character. I knew there was a chance he would pop my plot, but his wild absurdities fell over me like a cloak I couldn't shake off. He stood there, wearing an evil smirk and holding an enormous pin, the better with which to pop plots.
And he succeeded.
So now I have a confession to make. Part of my plan to analyze my manuscript (I didn't know it at the time) was to hold on to as much as possible. Twist it and make it work. Flip it and make it work. Punch it up and make it work. Look like I knew what I was doing and . . . well, it didn't work.
Broken Bones is morphing. The premise is still there (black market body parts) but the plot line is shifting. It could be a bit darker (darker than black market body parts? yep.) and it continues to deviate into more of something a student of Donald Maass might write. I can only hope. From my keyboard to God's inbox.
It dawned on me a few minutes ago that I'm looking at a major overhaul, and I'm not sure where to start. I'm like that mule in the picture. "I'm stuck. I'm not going anywhere and you can't make me. Can't you see all of this mud? What in the world was I thinking letting you lead me into this?"
My co-protagonists are waiting patiently while I do some scheming with the dastardly Volisus Lawes. Isn't that a perfectly grizzly name?
Currently reading: Deadly Beautiful by Sam Baker. I just started it today, and it's showing great promise. Look for it on sale August 19th.
Working on: Getting the mud out of my eyes.
It's all better with friends.