When my characters are happy, I’m unhappy. When my characters are unhappy, I’m happy. I’m not a sadist, just a writer (which may or may not be the same thing). Two days ago I made the horrible mistake of ending a chapter on a good note, with lots of smiles and happy feels all around.
The next morning, I didn’t want to write. Normally I like to leave some burning questions unanswered for the characters at the end of the day so that I’ll know exactly where to go the next morning. It’s much easier for me to pick up writing again if my MC, in this case, Madison, is hanging off the edge of a cliff. I know that I have to either make her fall or get her back up over the cliff edge.
I know exactly why I don’t want to write this obviously stupid story anymore. For those brief seconds that I let everyone be happy, I bored myself. I know that in rewriting that perfect happy moment is going to go bye-bye, because if I bored myself with it, it’ll definitely bore other people.
But in the meantime, I have to suck it up and throw some more madness into the mix and force myself to write through the doldrums.
