Last month I blogged about the notion of killing your darlings. I did one better than blab about it. I committed murder one month ago. And I’m freer than I’ve ever been. Ahahahaha!
I wouldn’t recommend murder in your real life. The handcuffs come out, not in an erotic romance kind of way, and prison bars tend to clank shut.
But if you’re struggling with a manuscript, in the I’ve tried everything from rewriting scenes to shifting plot points, and everything in between, and am contemplating ripping out all my hair and being committed to an asylum way, murder might be the thing for you. I wasn’t quite that bad off, but I’d hit a wall with the first novel I’d ever written. The plot had promise. The characters pizzaz. The conflict conflicted. And still, it stunk.
So, I (took some advice) read it through, shoved it in a folder, and started writing on a blank document. I murdered 60,000 words. And guess what, it freed me for the mire that was that first book and allowed me to enjoy the plot, characters, and conflict with the skill-set I’d accumulated over the last five years. In one month with the holidays and little people home, I’ve written 40,000 words and am closing in on the end of a publishable novel. Score!
Planning on offing anyone…I mean any manuscripts?