I was told it could happen, but I didn’t think it was true.
I was warned about it, but ignored the warning. In my ignorance, I believed it could never happen to me.
Yet it did.
My little baby book, the newborn creation that I began just yesterday, already has a will of its own. A strong one.
It took me two full years to write my last book, mainly because I wrote it in first person, and it was hard! So when I finally finished the last word, I vowed to stick to the much more intuitive third person. I never again wanted to struggle with those strange verb tenses that rear their ugly heads with first person writings.
Yet, as I reread what I wrote yesterday, I noticed that it just didn’t flow. Something wasn’t right. The voice, well, the voice was missing. Which, I suppose, is okay, since it is just a rough draft. Only…well…why not make even that first rough draft as good as it can be.
Especially since, as I thought about the story I planned, I realized that I didn’t need to try to give the story a voice, it already had one. I could hear it loud and clear. It was talking directly to me.
So today I rewrote yesterday’s writings–in first person. It slowed me down a bit, and I’ll have to scramble a bit more to reach my 50,000 words in one month goal, but it was worth it.
Wish me luck!