Last year a friend asked me, quite innocently, "Do you write fiction?"
Someday I hope to be able to say "And the rest is history. I now live in my version of Heaven on Earth, write full time, and hang out with people who need bodyguards at conventions."
But that question. Oh, that question. It started me on the path to writing my first novel. A 300 page honker of a book. I pantsed it all the way with no thought of doing anything with it until I realized I was actually going to finish it.
Since then I've worked with three editors on different projects and found out just how hard it is to write for publication. The elimination of the dreaded "was" and "that" and "then" and "could". Blasting passive voice off the page with my mouse in one hand and a hunk of hair in the other.
Recently I conned my editor Rachel Firasek into taking a look at that first novel. A story about vampires, demons, shape shifters, twue wuve, and snark. Lots of snark.
She loved it. Loved it so much she is on board to help me develop it into a series. The fact that the second book in the series is mostly finished (in a rough draft sort of way) helps take some of the pressure off.
But then I stop and think about how much I love to pants my way along. Never plotting much more than a chapter or two at a time, if that. Never making up character bios ahead of time.
And my tummy hurts. There's plenty of material for three or four books. I love the world, the characters, digging in and throwing grenades into the plot lines to see what happens in the aftermath.
But now I'm beginning to realize that I have to do some planning. I must. Otherwise I won't have a clue what happened in previous books or be able to use those events for future books.
Someone get me a spiked cocoa and a blankey. I need to cuddle up and hide from the evil plot monsters.
Surely there's a way for me to plot and plants this thing. I can be a Plantser, I can do this the way I work best. Right?
Are you guys laughing at me? ;)