Past Ties plods along. Thanks to Elementals, I was prepared for difficulty in reshaping and reworking a partially written story. It's been harder than I expected, but I have progressed.
While complaining about it to My Dear Friend last night, and while considering ways to accurately describe my troubles to non-writers, I stumbled across a revelation.
I've been thinking of Star of Justice as my perfectly behaved first born. Elementals is my strong-willed second child. So what would Past Ties be? The clownish, attention-starved Baby or the more serious, independent Youngest-For-Now?
But that's all wrong.
I wrote Past Ties in college. I finished it in college (clocking in at 37,500 words, I suppose it would count as a novella).
That makes Past Ties not only my first book, but my 17-year-old, near-adult coming home to demand why I abandoned it shortly after birth and what kinds of reparations I'm prepared to make.
That's a whole other can of mealworms.
I'm not dealing with a fresh idea and uncharted ground. I'm not dealing with a partially plotted group of scenes in need of smooth transitions and a coherent plot structure.
I'm dealing with a hacked-off first attempt to bring order out of chaos, and a story firmly settled in the legend of my story worlds.
No wonder it's been hard. I already wrote this. And now I'm writing it again. Differently.
Why do I do this to myself? Is writing a good story not hard enough?
My Dear Friend encouraged me to let it go and write something else (her ulterior motive no doubt is to read the much-touted but unwritten sequel to Star of Justice).
Can't do it. The Turtle sheer-cussedness is out in full-force. I will make something of this homeless urchin. I will whip this Galatea into shape to inspire everyone, including her creator, to fall in love with her.
That's the goal, anyway. I talk big when I'm nervous.