Started, but then?

Last night I started writing. NOT on my WorkInProgress, but on an older sequel to a much older story. SIGH. This stinks, I have too many stories going at the same time. The best is my fantasy story, which is the one I worked on in the 2003 Nanowrimo. The more I work on it, the better it comes out. It’s an ongoing saga of a young princess in a world of magic - not actually magic, but more like mind-manipulation. There is a difficult romance (of course), civil war, torture, exile, pregnancy, class prejudice, lots of politics, courtroom drama, cities, suburbs, tribal life, marriage, sacrifice, death, prison, and all that fun stuff, lol. It has not one but TWO sequels, as the saga of this monarchy, which usually is handed down through the females, continues through my main character’s daughter and grand-daughter. It even starts to become a democracy in the end. The exercise has made me a better plotter, and given me an outlet not just for some romantic fantasy (and tragedy), but also for venting politically and tapping into my experience of motherhood.

Weirdly, the book inspiring me the most is the “Reading Lolita in Tehran“, particularly the last section. I have dog-ears and highlights there, as author Azar Nafisi deconstructs my favorite author, Jane Austen, and comes up with a lot of insight into how authors do, can or should write. (If you can stand it and are a nut for literature and politics, this is an excellent books, although it took some TIME for me to really get through it.)

My other novel is COMPLETELY different, a drama about a doctor who falls in love with someone who turns out to be a criminal. The sequel to THAT is actually better than the original, it’s his story after he gets out of prison and how he reconnects unintentionally with the doctor, leading to some pretty disastrous results. (Guys always say, “do the fantasy story”.)

All stories have their issues that can create year-long blocks, but the fantasy story is a stumper because these are basically humans, and only in one or two instances have I thought to do anything fantastical (the ability to invade someone’s mind is control by certain brain centers, and the ability for women to hold a pregnancy in reserve for a period of time.) The problem, then, is creating a world fantastical and yet not so far removed from ours. I have no clue how to do that, but that’s not what I’m stuck on.

I’m stuck on editing. I HATE editing. It’s the equivalent of debugging to me (I code websites for a living). It SUCKS, it’s painful, and it never seems to end. So, ok, I have to. I’m actually stuck on transitiong from the protagnist’s rape scene to her escape…nothing seems right during her escape. And her exile is grueling too…she treks her own countryside incognito and learns how the now-over civil war has devastated everything and everyone, how the new government is quickly devolving into tyranny, and how a once-lovely land is suffering economic disaster. It’s not so much the overview of that, it’s dealing with the details of this exile: How is she and her companion trekking? (Like, why can’t they have a vehicle and get where they’re going faster?) How are people in dire circumstances helping them? How many roadside stories do I tell? Why is the companion’s area not so affected by war/economy?

Ugh, I need a master class and some drugs just to get through this damn book. And yet, it gives me joy, go figure.