When I talked with a writer friend earlier about my insecurity about where I am with this manuscript, her advice couldn't have been more clear... don't let on that writing a book isn't a natural flow of my creativity. In other words, pretend I come out of the starting gate with the book that gets published. First draft. I'm that good.
That's not how I roll.
Writing a book, at least for me, is one of the most amazing processes ever. Mostly because I'm not that good. I struggle. I search. I regret. I chastise. I belittle. I get on my knees.
I'm amazed at the words that came out of nowhere. Surely they didn't all come from me. The rotten ones? I remember writing those. They stunk then and they stink now. The brilliant ones? They surprise me as much as I hope they will ultimately surprise my readers.
The bad news? I feel like I'm floundering. There's a great thread (several, actually) that should weave this new story together perfectly. But as soon as I feel as if I have a grasp, they're teased away. It's as if all of the planning and research I've done to get this point is a big pie in the face. Larry, Moe and Curly have nothing on me. I'm the butt-end of slapstick with the best of them. Or the worst of them. Or whatever.
The good news? This is my fourth (publishable) book. It's also the fourth time I've felt this way. Feeling like a fraud is part of what makes me close my eyes and trust the process. Move on. Push through. Let it happen.
Take a breath.
I trust that in the end, FLAME GAME will have an entertainment value that will resonate. In the meantime, I'll just keep writing. And then rewriting. And then rewriting some more.
It's what I do.
In the meantime...
It's all better with friends.