I thought Jake trusted me to write The Vanishing of Owen Taylor, but this last revelation has thrown that into question. It means a lot of restructuring and a fair portion of what I've written will need to be dumped because it just doesn't work, anymore. And now he's trying to back away from it, as if he thinks he's told me too much...like he was just kidding. It's driving me nuts.
I halfway wonder if it's all about fear...or punishment for me not getting the damn book done. I've been working on it for over a year and a half...and just when I think I've got it, Jake shifts position and lets a bit more info out and it makes everything different. Like he's messing with me, the little shit.
So what do I do? The new killer makes sense...but something about the way Jake's suggesting he finally realize it is just so...coincidental or easy or cliched. And batting about with all this crap has given me a vicious headache, adding to my pissiness.
I hate it when my characters try to fuck me over. Of course, I know what it really is -- my own reticence in dealing with this new aspect of the story. But it's RIGHT. I can feel that. It's more than just thinking it's good or telling myself it makes sense. It's a claw in my gut that won't let go...and when that happens, me doing anything else would hurt the story.
I found this out when I wrote the suicide bit in Bobby Carapisi. I tried for months to figure out a way around it...to ignore it...to do something other than let a character I liked die...but I couldn't move until I finally forced myself to focus and face it and let it go. And grieve through another character. It wasn't until then that the book got finished.
So here we go, again...and my head is killing me.
So what do I do? The new killer makes sense...but something about the way Jake's suggesting he finally realize it is just so...coincidental or easy or cliched. And batting about with all this crap has given me a vicious headache, adding to my pissiness.
I hate it when my characters try to fuck me over. Of course, I know what it really is -- my own reticence in dealing with this new aspect of the story. But it's RIGHT. I can feel that. It's more than just thinking it's good or telling myself it makes sense. It's a claw in my gut that won't let go...and when that happens, me doing anything else would hurt the story.
I found this out when I wrote the suicide bit in Bobby Carapisi. I tried for months to figure out a way around it...to ignore it...to do something other than let a character I liked die...but I couldn't move until I finally forced myself to focus and face it and let it go. And grieve through another character. It wasn't until then that the book got finished.
So here we go, again...and my head is killing me.
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