On Tuesday I got struck by lightning.
I have been writing the novel I’m now properly concentrating on for eight years. What finally got me to continue was a book and some career advice. And seems like everything they say about writing is actually true. When you start writing, the story follows.
The story’s like a river. It starts in the mists of your mind, gathering into droplets, into what-ifs, and condensing around conversations you imagine having with imaginary or semi-imaginary people. Those droplets then fall and start trickling together and form little streams, which gather up and make a larger stream. Sometimes puddles form. But when there’s enough water, the pull of the water gets strong enough and there’s no stopping it.
On Tuesday I found where the course of this story is actually heading. When I was outlining the story in March, I decided on where it was going. I just put something that would probably become the ending, but it never felt organic to me like the rest of the story. But on Tuesday, I figured out where the story flows naturally. It was so easy, it seems silly I didn’t realise it before.
So, for most of the week I’ve been re-outlining and structuring the story. Yesterday I started making the miniscule changes that were required to the story already written, and then continued to organise the bits and pieces which have not seemed to fall into place before. Now they fit like a puzzle.
Am I mad to make large changes at this point of the writing process. No. The murky waters of the pond that was the previous ending have cleared up and even though I can’t see the ocean yet, I’ll get there.