Emily Robertson
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You Done Messed Up

I don't know about you, but there are times when I bite the big one.  I'm not talking about a small mess up. I'm talking about a so-bad-it-hurts-makes-me-want-to-cry mess up.  That's where I am today. And the bad ones never come when it's easy to fix them either.  If I'd have realized what was happening a couple weeks ago, heck, even a week ago, I could have easily fixed everything, and I won't have cared.  Instead, I'm sitting here moping around instead of working because that seems like it might be easier at the moment than rolling up my sleeves and doing the dirty work. You might wonder what I'm even talking about.  Well, sit on back and I'm going to tell you a story.

A few weeks ago I sat down and started working on a secret project.  Don't ask, I can't tell you.  Anyway, I wrote the first chapter and a half, and I really liked how it was shaping up.  There was one small problem. I knew who the girl was, but not the guy.  A week ago inspiration struck, and I knew who the guy would be. So words flowed.  Tonight, I realized that this story, while I love it, won't work for this project.  I've shot myself in the foot, and I need to revisit it another time. That means all the words I've written for this book need to be put away, and I need to start again.  See why I'm crying?
In my writing world, I usually open a document and stare at the blinking cursor.  In fact, I’ve done that tonight. That’s the pantser life for you.  You never plan anything out before you go.  You just fly by the seat of your pants.  Get it, pantser?  So, that’s me, a pants girl, or leggings girl, but leggings are pants.  That’s a topic for another night. So pantsing gets me in trouble because I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m doing.  I often write myself into a corner. Sometimes I have to scrap chapters, whole sections, or in this case, my whole book.
Next week I’ll be cracking the whip and working like crazy.  Maybe now that I have all the players in place… again, I can knock this book out.  If you see me around, ask me how it’s going. I might tell you everything is great.  Most likely I’ll be pulling my hair out. It’ll be good times either way.

 

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