It was the plot that would knock my socks off and demand to be written, like a toddler screaming at me until it had it's way, fists slamming into the ground, face red, wailing at the top of its lungs to be typed. Sable. My book.
But here I was, on the other side of the wall while Sable mewled through the brick. I tried everything, but my bridges from scene to scene were so flimsy they snapped in the middle, my fresh new subplots refused to boost me over, crossing arms and cursing at me as they tried to tell me they didn't belong in this book. The frustration found me banging my head on the wall and scraping at the brick with my fingernails, screaming at Sable for being so difficult, threatening it.
Angela and Cole sat back and watched smirks cut across their faces, they new how it all ended, but they wouldn't help me, it was too entertaining watching me kick the wall. My characters were useless to me.
Finally I gave up and slumped against the wall wallowing in my own self-pity. Telling Sable I gave up and it wouldn't ever grace the screen of my laptop. Then I took a deep breath and told myself it wasn't a big deal, I shouldn't get so obsessed.
Angela and Cole walked over to me with a twinkle in their canine eyes and slid a pen and paper in my hands. They stepped back and watched.
Hesitation had me staring, frozen, at the blank page, I knew where my characters were going and where they started, but after days of failing to get through the wall to Sable left me feeling cautious. It was only a matter of time before this came back to bite me in the butt.
Slowly I picked up the pen and the ground started to rumble. One scene, then two, they kept coming, flowing so well together I laughed at myself for making it so hard before.
Scene by scene the bricks fell away, the wall defeated and broken. Angela and Cole nodded their heads in approval as I sat in the rubble stretching and warming up for another trek across my computer screen.
The dust settled and I saw a few bits of wall still standing, like tombstones, leering at me. I gasped and ran to them, but Angela stopped me and shook her head.
All along I was searching for perfection instead of letting go, letting the story flow, but when I looked at the snot-nosed, red-eyed, toddler of a novel waiting for me, I realized this wasn't the time to perfect anything. Sable was still a baby, not even into its first chapter, it won't be perfect yet, it won't ever be perfect and I was ashamed at myself for setting such high standards for my poor little novel. Yes, my book was a mess, but by the time I send off my final draft it will be older, more mature, ready for hungry eyes to devour.
I wiped Sable's nose and held its hand as I walked forward, my pen in hand listening to Angela and my other characters give suggestions for where they were going in this book. They will probably change their minds a million times in the coming weeks, but I'm ready for the winding road of novel writing ahead of me.
Tomorrow starts another adventure with Angela, and Cole in Sable book three in the Silvermoon Series-- I can't wait to start.
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