I don’t know if this counts as a milestone or not, but it certainly feels like one for me. I am now working on the last chapter of Part I of my childrens/young adult novel. No, it’s not Part I as in Part I of a trilogy, it’s simply Part I of the novel itself. Yeah, I know. Big whoop, but let me explain.
I spent the greater part of the end of March wrangling with writer’s block and hiding in fear that this project would once again hit the garbage bin barely forty pages in. Fortunately, I confided in my significant other, who advised that I keep the parts I felt boring, but necessary short and sweet, and keep moving faster toward the parts I looked forward to in my outline. You’d think this solution would be common sense, but it’s been a long time since I’ve written anything in prose. In screenplays, you can cut in the middle of a scene and jump somewhere else to move the action along. Novels? Honestly, I’d rather not push the “experimental” envelope since I’m just a rookie/wannabe writer. I don’t have the credentials to play hardball without looking like a pretentious ass.
Oh, wait. Too late.
So here I am, on the last chapter, and feeling very worried this chapter won’t be excuted the way I’ve imagined it. And I’ve imagined it enough times to recite the dialogue out loud. OCD, but true. I’ve already begun creating the most critical scene. It’s the part of the novel I’ve been aching to write for the longest time. It needs to be written. It has to be written, and yet I feel reluctant to step off the edge of the very precipice I’ve created and let the real ride begin.
UPDATE: It’s finished. Time to bring out the big guns.