Quoth Jaci, yesterday:
Imagine that with every book you write, you hit the wall, stop, dump the entire thing and start over with a brand new project, one you love. It’s so much better than the last one that wasn’t working. Your fingers fly, the story shines…
Quoth challenge participant Jen Hayley on her own blog yesterday:
So, I sat down tonight to do some writing on the middle of CLASH. Middles are hard. Instead of coming up with brilliant prose and writing the next scene I have mapped out, I kind of sort of fiddled around with a New!Shiny! Idea that popped into my head tonight.
Hmmm…. appears to be an epidemic of shiny things floating around in the collective unconscious, does it not? Jen’s even got a new status bar up on her page tracking her progress on her new project, a codification which (and I’m not picking on Jen) may make it even harder to realize that it’s not what you’re supposed to be working on.
I am familiar with the allure of the shiny new thing. The new book has no mistakes in it. The new book is a thing of beauty and a joy forever. The new book won’t have these truculent characters or difficult middle or sticky wicket of a transition scene. The new book will be all things wonderful, so why the heck am I working on this old piece of dreck?
Someone once told me the best way to think up a new idea is to get stuck on an old one.
Sometimes it’s best to ignore these ideas, to stick them in an “idea” folder and promise that you’ll get back to them later. (The “promise” part is very important — otherwise they won’t believe and will keep on nagging.) But what if this idea will not be put away? What if it won’t be told to shut up? That’s when I use a different tactic.
I had an idea like that once. I was in the middle of finishing up one novel that had been requested by a bunch of agents, and doing editor-requested revisions on another. This idea would not leave me alone, however, It was the first thing I thought about when I woke up in the morning, the last thing I thought about before going to bed. I had industry professionals waiting on me for two other books, and I really, really needed to shut this project up so I could concentrate on my requested work.
So I turned it into a carrot on a stick. I made myself a schedule: X many hours of work a day on the requested project, and then I was free to do whatever I wanted on the bright, shiny idea. Here at 70 Days of Sweat, we already have a schedule. You’ve already agreed to write 900-1500 words a day. After that, you are free to work on whatever you’d like. Indulge yourself in your bright, shiny carrot on a stick — after you’ve finished your other work.
That’s what I did. I worked on my requested revisions and full manuscript, playing with my new idea in a few scraps of leftover time. Once I turned them in, I went after my bright, shiny idea with gusto.
Now, I probably shouldn’t tell you this part, because it will make you even more certain that you should dump your current ms for the new idea, but those other books didn’t end up selling. The new one, however, became Secret Society Girl, my first published book. But here’s what I think. I learned things finishing that one book (which was the hardest book to bring home!), and revising the other (my first editor requested revision!) that I think helped make Secret Society Girl “the one.” If I hadn’t done it the way I did, maybe I wouldn’t have had the skills to turn the shiny idea into the saleable project.