Thank god for Tania. She not only helped me understand different ways of creating plot (write the beginning first, think in 3 act plays, watch movies for how they cut into and out of scenes), she also affirmed that although my instincts are purely instinctual, they are pretty good. Bill’s an only child in my novel - did he needs brothers and sisters? Naw - then I’d only have to weave them into the story. He just goes back and forth from home to school home to school, then the library, then the college, then home again. Good! Keep it simple. Harry Potter only went from home to school in most of his books [NOT that I’m comparing myself to Rowling by any stretch of the imagination, I’m just saying...]. Does Bill need a best friend? Maybe, but start without one unless you find you need one later on. Will’s his Other, so is mostly his sidekick, anyway.
I felt renewed, so started on the ending. Bill’s at the deserted silo, but where’s Will? I got nervous. What happened to him? I guess I’ll just have to find out later when I write that part. Bill gets what’s in the trunk, and starts heading back to his house, but I get worried. Where’s Will? How am I going to get him? I have no idea. Maybe he’ll show up. Which he does!!! One scene later - phew! Argus had him all along. But how will it end? He backs towards the tree, closer, closer, the hand reaches out of the tree and grabs him…
Oh man - I jump up and start pacing around. I’m so nervous! Will Bill be okay? Will Will be okay? How will it end? It’s just the first book in the trilogy, but I just HAVE to know some things… I keep writing, feeling the energy leaping off the page. I think I’m getting it; slowly, yes, I never doubted that, but I feel like the little engine that could, chugging up the literary hill, panting, “I think I can, I think I can...” 19,000 words into it, 31,000 more to go. Do I have that many words in me? I have no idea, but for now, I guess I’ll just keep writing, and trust the fire in me to keep burning. Besides, I just HAVE to find out what happens to Will, don’t I?