My instincts were screaming at me to cut out a large section of what I’d written. Then there was the voice of reason: ‘But it’s descriptive, and shows the passage of time, and it’s only three little paragraphs and besides, you might be feeling frustrated and emotional right now.’
Linda was in agreement with the voice of reason, but she is just as close to the writing as I am. We both feel like it’s fast enough, because we know what’s coming up next. They truly were three little paragraphs, but they were big enough to rob the story of its tempo. It didn’t feel fast when I read it out loud to the writers group. It felt like it was too much, like I was getting bogged down in details that didn’t matter. Unanimously, they all said that the pace slowed far too much in that section.
I’d listened to reason but I shouldn’t have. At least I had the courage to read out the section I was in doubt about. At least I had the courage to admit my logic might be at fault. Writing isn’t logical – it’s an adventure. It’s for thrill-seekers. Some get their kicks from gentle rides, but this book is supposed to be a psychological bucking bronco.
In hindsight, if I’d trusted my instincts, I’d not have received the acknowledgement that my instincts were right to trust in the first place. So, even though I made a mistake and could’ve caught it without extra help – it’s all good.