The past weekend was spent scratching my head; I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my story. I had a starting point, but it ended up being earlier in the time-line than I had anticipated. So things had to re-adjust.
I hashed things out with the boyfriend, which ended up in me taking his advice to just sit and think for half an hour. Then write out a plot-line.
After our talk, I sat down and wrote on scrap paper. At first it was specific ideas and events connected to characters, but then my imagination took notice and started spouting out ideas.
I always thought that books should have at least three separate plots going on, two of them might even be connected to one another.
Of course, many of those ideas will probably not be used. I’m thinking this will end up being a series… And then I hit myself over the head and tell myself, “Just write the damn story, don’t worry about breaking it up into books yet.” Heck, I don’t even have a whole chapter yet; have to figure out what I’m going to be dealing with first.
At this point, I’m going to pause, gather up the papers, and then go to sleep. Cuz it’s just after 1am. I love the night hours for its lack of distractions, but I’m pretty happy with what I have now. And I’m tired. And my plot ideas are getting a little strange.