The HEA Cafe

During a recent lunch with a group of writer friends, I mentioned I was having problems finishing my latest WIP. I’ve tried not to think of it as writer’s block, as I think such terms can quickly turn into a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy, but I was most definitely jammed.

See, I’d gotten about a third of the way through the story - I had my outline, my character sheets, my vision board (all very brief and basic, because I’m at heart a pantser) - and things were going a-okay, thank you very much. Until my hero went and did something that was most definitely not on my outline plan. Okay, usually I love when this happens, but on this particular occasion, with this particular story, it threw me for a loop. Which is where I remained for far too long, stalled and not sure where to go with the “book from hell”. My hero, bless his alpha-to-hide-the-gooey-centre heart, insisted I keep his unexpected reaction to something the heroine told him and he wouldn’t back down. I’d threatened to walk away from his story, to spend my time with another slightly less arrogant male who would be only too happy I was pounding away at the keyboard to get his story told. But nothing would budge my broad-shouldered veterinarian. He wanted his own way.

Which is why I found myself bemoaning my fate to my writer girlfriends. “Do you know how the story ends?” one asked. “Well, yes.” I replied. “Then write the ending,” came the reply, “and then work backwards.”  This was not exactly pleasurable fodder to my ears. ”I’m a sequential writer,” I cried. “I can’t possibly do that, it’s just not my way.” Even the thought made my stomach roil. “Try it,” came the canny reply.

Back home I sat staring at the screen, just in case a revelation came from above and I suddenly knew how to fix the story, but nothing happened. I fought and I struggled against my friend’s advice until, hesitantly, reluctantly, I wrote the final scene. It felt bad. It felt wrong. I even had a sense of my characters shaking their heads demanding to know just what the heck I was playing at. They weren’t ready for their HEA. Too bad. They were having it. I continued to ignore their screams of protest and worked backward (in outline) to that stalled scene. Guess what?  It worked. My fingers are flying over the keyboard again, my head is full of excitement and anticipation. I know where I’m going.

Writing out of sequence still feels weird, it still feels wrong somehow, and I can’t say I’ll adopt it as my normal modus operandi. Yet as an emergency measure it worked amazingly well.  The whole experience made me realise how easy it is to get stuck in a rigid way of thinking, so that we simply can’t see the wood for the trees. Just Try It has become my new mantra.

Tricia

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