Someone in my house busted out the Christmas music about halfway through October. Someone else started complaining that it was too early for Christmas music about ten seconds later. I was not either of these people. I waited all the way until November to begin thinking about Christmas.
Unfortunately, my thoughts have not revolved around joy-filled music. I’m not decorating with anticipation. I’m focused on a single familiar scene. Everyone knows the Charlie Brown Christmas by heart, right? Remember when he puts an ornament on his cute little tree and it collapses? I’m feeling nearly as overdramatic about my next book. “I’ve killed it. Everything I touch gets ruined.”
I’m working on the fourth book in the Love in Anduak series. I scribbled out a rough draft of this one before I started on the third one. I didn’t try to make it a full-length draft. I just had some ideas I wanted to get on paper. When I picked it up a few months later I knew it was short so I read through it with an eye towards what I could add. I wrote a few new scenes and inserted them here and there. Then I began to move blocks of text where characters were talking about things that hadn’t happened yet or explaining things that no longer needed to be explained. I’ve never written a book so out of order. Now I’m afraid there are several parts that don’t make sense and I keep making it worse and… I’ve killed it.
But I have not killed hope. I’m hoping this is one of those darkest before the dawn situations. After all, Charlie Brown’s tree only needed a little love to bring about an impossible transformation. I love the story I’m trying to tell. I love finishing a book. I love being stubborn in the face of frustration. If I channel all that into hard work, I’ll be at the point where I can start putting the book back together soon. And then I won’t be a blockhead anymore.