I have an idea.
Really, you say. A writer with an idea. Is that newsworthy?
Probably not. But it feels like a big deal to me. You see, I've spent ten years with the same protagonist, written perhaps 3,000 pages to get three published novels. And for the past three years, I've had . . . not exactly a conceptualized idea, but a
voice kicking around in my head. And a voice is a character knocking on the front door, waiting to be let in. Last week, I opened the door, and he walked in, bringing a whole cast of characters and problems with him.
So I sat down and wrote a description of the setting, the cast, and a synopsis (something you might find on the dust jacket). The synopsis concludes with these three sentences:
Money, power, and political swag go a long way in explaining a hidden truth. And some secrets are never meant to be told. Unbeknownst to Bo and Ellie, this one threatens not only them but their daughters as well.
And that's where I began. I sat down and started writing. What's the secret Ellie and Bo will learn? I have no idea. Not yet. Looking forward to finding out. I'm not working from an outline, just a 730-word, wide-open description. And something fun has happened: I having a blast writing this book. The voice keeps talking, the story is unfolding, and the book is taking off.
It's a rush. And that rush is why I do it. It's why I get up at 4 and write until 6 a.m. most days. Not for a contract. Not for a royalty check. And never for reviews.
Where will the novel go? No idea. But I'm looking forward to finding out.
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