I’m standing at the edge of Lake Chaos and I don’t seem to be as concerned for my toes as I should be. I have a feeling my Muse has shown up… fangs baring and all. Yes, my Muse and I get on just as well as venom and blood cells. Hint – I am not the venom.
My weekend was vaguely productive. I finished (as best as I can right now) an assignment, prepared for my tutorials and I wrote. Okay, I admit that I was about two activities off on my to do list but I was proud of myself. I pressed backspace on my measly 300 words for NanoWrimo, started with a blank slate and managed to rack up 9000 words in two days. Needless to say, I was a happy camper. That, of course, was until panic started raining down in heavy, scalding drops.
I don’t like my plot. Not the ‘I want to delete three thousand words and pick door number 2 instead of door number 3’ but rather, the ‘I want to chuck this potential book into my mental trash and start afresh’ variety of panic. Suddenly it feels like I would set myself up for failure if I try to work with this plot. But dare I (especially with my schedule) delete all my words and start afresh with a new plot on Day 5? 9000 words are quite a bit of words to go to waste. Just considering it seems insane doesn’t it? My self preservation, in the very least, should prevent me from making such a decision. So why does it seem like I’m about to dive headfirst into Lake Chaos?