Here I am, again, in the same spot I always find myself in when I write a new story. I’m four chapters in, haven’t nailed the main character’s voice, and the excitement and desire I had when starting the book has gone from a raging fire to a pile of smoldering debris.
And the urge to cheat—to pick up another story and put this down, is enormous. Another story seems…sexier, more interesting, and certainly, a lot easier to manage than this one.
Which is a lie, of course. It’s a quiet delusion.
But danged if delusions aren’t so much fun to hold to.
This book is driving me crazy.
I can see the scenes, the plot, the push and pull of the characters. What I CAN’T see is the heroine’s voice. I can’t get a handle on her. Truth be told all my female characters emerge shrill and with large chips on their shoulders, so this shouldn’t bother me.
Of course it does.
Of course I’m ready to fall on my sword because the first draft isn’t the perfect drat.
It’s so bad, the animals have retreated from the study and my husband won’t make eye contact.
I’m praying it gets better because I don’t want to lose this manuscript, but I really wish she’d hurry up and talk so I can get a clear read on her voice.