When You Hit a Wall, Embrace It!

I recently completed a middle grade (MG) light fantasy novel. It took about two years for me to get it right, and one and a half of those were a real struggle. So I thought I'd be glad to write "The End" and send the book out to dazzle the literary world.

Instead, I felt sad when I finished it. I was going to miss my protagonist. She and I had spent a long time together, and she'd become a real person to me. I also realized that while that particular part of her story had concluded, she wasn't done yet. Not a problem, I'd write a sequel.

"You're going to what?!?" asked my inner critic, in a tone that implied I was contemplating a faux pas of the worst kind. "I'm sorry, but a sequel is not a done thing."
"What about Harry Potter?" I asked.
"A mere quirk."
"How about Junie B. Jones?"
"The answer is, 'No!'"

Okay, so I'd write something else. Only I couldn't. The story that began with my first novel was incomplete, it needed to be followed through to the end. After much wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth, I decided to write the sequel. I wasn't going to let the "shoulds" interfere with what I wanted to do.

So, I started to write. It was a blast. I already knew the character. I totally knew what she was going to face, and some unexpected, interesting people showed up in her life. I was on a roll. Until...

My personal life intervened. I was dealing with a sticky emotional situation that threw me off track. Even if I had been able to write, which I couldn't, I didn't want to taint my book with the negative energy that was engulfing me at the moment. I came to a screeching halt. Then Eric Luper, one of my trusty and trusted writing group friends, challenged me to write something from the perspective of the person who was causing the problems for me.

IM-possible. That woman was down and dirty. Mean and evil. She didn't have a redeeming quality in her body. How could I, fine speciman of humanity that I am, ever get inside her head?

"Try," said Eric.

So I did. The character practically grabbed my computer off my desk, and started typing the story herself. She's not even close to the person who inspired the writing exercise, but she is still a real piece of work. She is definitely not MG material. In fact, I don't believe I can even pass the book off as edgy young adult (YA). She is a young adult, mind you, but the subject matter is pretty mature for those tender YA minds (Ha!).

So, now I'm also writing an adult novel with a protagonist who's negative, conniving, and has a vocabulary that would make the sailors blush! The fun part is keeping her true to who she is, while making her sympathetic enough for the reader to root for her.

It started as a wonderful outlet for my negative energy, and it's a good thing I grabbed the opportunity when I did. My life is back on an even keel, but my character is solid enough to keep moving on her own. Since things have settled down, I've been able to resume writing the sequel to my MG novel.

And the weird thing is, I don't have any problem shifting between the two books. I am amazed at how easy it is.

In a deeply philsophical moment, I likened a writer to a Shaman. Sometimes we need to be able to shapeshift to get the job done.