It's A Big Box

I spend a lot of time thinking before I go to sleep.  I'm not one of those people that fall asleep the minute their head hits the pillow.  I mull, cogitate, review; rehash what's happened during my day, consider what I have to do the next day.

Last night, in the midnight dark of clear thinking, I wandered through the plot of the story I'd posted earlier in the day. And arrived at the jarring conclusion that I don't like it or where it's headed; that somehow I missed the signs this isn't the tale I want to tell.

I'd been working on a different story, one wafting in and out of my head for a week or so, but yesterday morning whilst walking the dogs, the wraith story popped into being. Intrigued, I came home and wrote it. Unfortunately, I wish I'd thought it through before posting, figured out beforehand that it wasn't really going to work...or just ignored the distracting whispers in the storytelling part of my brain and stayed focused on my original idea.

However, the beauty of writing--or the agony, more often than not--is that, as the goddess in charge, these are my creations, my worlds, characters, stories.  I can do whatever I want with them and if I don't like any of it...well, into the box at the back of the closet it goes, along with all the other notes and research, lost chapters and stories to nowhere that have filled my head over the years.

So. I'm forging ahead to write something else, though what that might be is unclear at the moment. Writing is not rocket science...it's much, much harder.