Today’s post is a heart-breaker. I’m about to kill one of my darlings, a dream that inspired the novel, but doesn’t really fit into the causal chain.
But it simply doesn’t work for my character to behave in this way, so the scene has to go. Chop. Delete.
“But it’s so good,” whines the muse. ”All those pretty sensory details. The trees, the creek, the bugs! Why, you can almost taste the swampy air.”
“Bad luck,” says the left, more pragmatic side of the brain. The side that deals with cause and effect. ”It doesn’t make sense for the character to run to the farmhouse, return to the roadhouse, then run back again. You’ve got her running to and fro like a chicken with its head cut off. And why? Because of a dream?” he scoffs.
“Well, yeah, but that dream inspired the entire novel,” says the muse, in a small, hurt voice. “And it’s full of motivation and action sequences. All that emotion, gone to waste.”
“Too bad, it’s got to go. You know it’s not working. Don’t be so obsessed with the small stuff. Think of the big picture.”
“Fine! If you’re not going to listen to me, then do it on your own.” She flounces off, champagne bottle in hand, legs quivering.
Oh well. I’ll lure her back with the inspirational momento mori artwork I’ve lined up for the story.
Back to revising. The left side of the brain is the boss today and he’s cracking the whip. Bad tempered ass. Why he’s a male is beyond me. It just works in my own, crazy little world where art and logic battle for a happy medium.