I’m in the middle of my novel and it’s a bit of a scary thing.
Though I’ve a point of departure (my beginning) and a destination in mind (my end), in between I’ve got great, murky swaths of The Unknown to traverse through.
I am in The Middle a.k.a. The Great Unknown.
Generally, I am using a previous scene to build the current scene and thus I am inching my way slowly forward through the dark. Sort of like building a bridge across a chasm with tiny Lego bricks. Little bit by little bit, I am stretching my way from Beginning to End–
And of course I am trying to ratchet up the tension with each small step forward (cue the Ominous Music).
It makes for an unnerving experience.
Because anything could happen. They’re sitting in a room and they could talk or they could fight or they could kiss.
Or a cat could jump out from a closet and scare them or they could hear a scream or they could fall asleep because their tea was drugged.
Or they could decide to eat oysters or ham or white soup or they could go for a walk.
Or they could discover the Professor stabbed in the back, slouched over a potted fern.
My characters and I are constantly in the present moment, never knowing what the next moment (or Lego brick) is until it appears like magic. Poof!
(Sort of like real life, I guess.)
Writer, is this your experience of The Middle? Or is it more of a Happy Place for you?
Personally, I’m finding it pretty freaky!