Normally I don’t blog about writing. I don’t know why I shy away from it exactly. Maybe I think it’s a waste of time for me to write about writing when I could be writing instead of writing about writing.
Sorry about that last sentence. Horrifying. *cringes a little*
But here’s the thing: I’m stuck. Like, uber stuck. Stuck like poor Ollie. (If you don’t know who Ollie is, read this.)
Last winter I decided to re-write my work-in-progress from a third person perspective. Holy cow, it blew the whole thing open. I loved the added dimensions to the story, the ability to shift view-points and see what’s happening through different perspectives. It was a good thing.
But as I did it, the story shifted. And since the story blossomed into one of epic proportions, a little shift can cause a huge earthquake down the line. I feel like I’m navigating those story-line waters pretty well right now, but I’ve been plugging away at it for so long, I’ve come to a problem with the third-person perspective.
It’s grown stale. I’m feeling more and more disconnected from my characters, who I love. They are vibrant, each with their own story to tell. But I feel like I’m losing them into a two-dimensional world. Some days that world feels one-dimensional. Some characters have blended into the computer screen entirely.
So now I’m toying with the idea of re-writing…again, in first person. But honestly, I’m terrified of writing more than one character in first person. What if I can’t make each voice unique? What if everything becomes unbelievable because every character sounds the same?
Oh, the doubt and self-loathing.
Tell me I’m not the only one stuck in life. Maybe it’s not in writing. Maybe it’s a yoga pose you can’t master. Maybe it’s an inability to make the perfect pie crust. Maybe it’s that you’ve let your dog’s toenails grow too long because clipping them eebs you out. (Maybe every single one of those examples comes from my own life.)
I am one messed-up Midwestern chica.
*crooked grin that says I’m smiling, but I’m not happy*