I envy people who can concentrate on one work of fiction at a time, which I believe may be most writers. I do a lot of nonfiction writing and I’ve been focusing on two primary devotional book proposals lately, but I sometimes make time to write in my two most recent novels.
Although I’ve designated Fridays as fiction days, the reality is that I must often use them to meet nonfiction deadlines. But today I made a stab at a thorny organizational problem that’s been pricking my mind. I’d decided that a character in my novel, Living Echoes, was going to play a large enough role that I needed to insert an earlier chapter showing more of her personality and her relationship with Jillian (the protagonist).
I thought about making the action take place during the summer between Jillian’s freshman and sophomore years of college. But after reading over the chapter I believed the new one needed to precede, I realized the action should take place over Thanksgiving break. I even noted that fact in my journal.
I began writing the chapter. I wrote a telephone conversation scene that I really like. Then I looked at it in amazement. After just deciding the chapter should take place over Thanksgiving break, I’d written it at the beginning of summer.
Fiction often takes me places I didn’t intend to go. Today it totally flummoxed me.