The last few weeks have been frustrating. I’ve been driving toward the finish of a book that just doesn’t want to end. Scenes keep getting added. Some will come back out; this is not going to finish as a 170,000 word book. It’s a sign that I’ve been thrashing.
The proper last bits (and structure for them, which will get laid back into the other text and inform what goes out and what stays) have been licking around the edges of my conscious mind, irritating me since they haven’t quite been willing to expose themselves. So this morning, I decided to journal instead of writing. Lo and behold …not only did I finally tease the edges of the end of this book out into the open, but I figured out a key answer to a question I’ve been mulling for the fourth book in the Silver Ship series.
File this under letting your better half work. The muse is seldom in my conscious mind. Had I sat down and demanded word count I would have gotten crap that needed to be cut later.