There are days, like I’ve had this week, when the words come. When you have an idea of what needs to happen and who might be doing it, and you open a scene, and you write that scene.
It feels great.
If you’re not careful, though, that evil editor is going to be hanging around saying, “Are these the right words? Is this really what needs to happen here? Will this scene connect up with the rest of the story.”
My thought for the day: It’s okay to say, “I DON’T KNOW.” Loudly. And with pride.
It’s really just another way of accepting Anne Lamott’s shitty first draft. (Or, as in my case, a second draft with lots of new material!).
There’s a reason, I think, why the words that are coming out of you feel good, even if they’re not words you’ll ultimately keep. It’s because they’re something. They’re the mess you’re making that you’re going to be able to work with later, that you’ll pull pieces out of to keep and throw away big piles of.
So let yourself enjoy the feeling. Don’t question it more than you have to, and don’t let the little worrying voice in your head tell you to stop. Do. Not. Stop.