I solved my issue with the second book. I do admit that I kind of rushed the end a bit after that, but I wanted to make sure it was going to work. I’ll loop back through to sink another layer into it before writing the last chapter, which should happen tomorrow.

So, I wasn’t too far off on my estimate of getting it done. Just about a day. I’ll take that.

Then I’ll be off and running into book three which I have no idea what it’s going to be about. All I have have every really known about this series is that it would be three books and my female main character would have an extraordinary power. It’s been fun to explore that.

I just have to keep trusting the process and let my creative voice tell this story.

I was a bit afraid that I’d lost the main “villain” of the book in this last scene, but I shortly realized the larger game and how that actually upped the stakes for my character. And in saying that, I realize that I have a shadow view of the third book. I just need to get in there with my flashlight and start seeing what’s really going on. Plus, I guess I do know the surprise that will be revealed in the third book, so perhaps I am a bit hasty in saying that I had NO idea where it was going. Maybe I just needed to make sure that I was strapped in for the rollercoaster ride I’m about to undertake before letting the excitement really take hold.

Yes, writing into the dark is scary and exciting. But it’s not fear type scary, just uncertain type scary if that makes sense. Fear is excitement without the breath, so that’s why I can say it’s not fear type scary. The definition of “scary” is “frightening” and I suppose that is really what I’m trying to say. It is frightening because you don’t know if the story is going to work. If one lets it, it can be crazy-making, which is probably why a lot of people like to plot rather than just forging ahead. It’s frightening to think that you might put time and energy into something that doesn’t work. Okay, I’ve baked a lot of things that didn’t work too, like my gigantic breathing cookie when I added way, way too much baking soda or just flat out burned something to an inedible crisp. I’ve spent time sewing things that… well, let’s just say that I can’t sew a straight line, let along cut a straight line even with aids, so my sewing is something that should never be mentioned. I’ve painting pictures that didn’t work and I’ve painted over. Yeah, being creative in whatever form is a risk. It might not work out. It will never work out as well as it does in your head. So, yeah, that’s frightening.

The alternative is that it does work out. The cookies are delicious, the garment is exquisite, the painting makes people want to walk right into it and live there. And, sometimes, the story has been a thrilling adventure that people read and reread for years to come.

Trust me, the things that don’t work don’t get attention. The giant breathing cookie got thrown in the garbage. The clothing that had an arm too small and a head hole too big got cut up and used as a dust rags. And the painting, as I said, was painted over as something else. Guess what? Words that don’t work out… well, they are just words. They can be deleted. If the story does escape, people won’t read a bad tale. They will put the book down and most of the time they don’t even remember why they put it down. (Unless they are bitter trolls who want to be spiteful for a reason. Don’t be a troll.)

That’s why I didn’t panic when I knew that something was wrong in the second book this last week. And it was a matter of finding the words that needed to go and deleting them. Once I did that and wrote the bridge to make my sections flow together (yes, stories I can sew back together beautifully) I was able to carry on. I did have to go back to a prior scene in the book, because I knew the answer was there (and it was), and it pointed me to what needed to be deleted. Words. Words gone. Really as easy as that. I did just need my subconscious to give me the direction about where I needed to go.

And now the creative voice is ready to be onto the next story.

Until next time, happy adventuring.