Every so often I'll get stuck at a certain point, unsure of how to continue with the novel in question. It's not a total blockage, since I still know my destination; it's more of a moment of indecisiveness, the kind I imagine Bugs Bunny experiencing when he pops up in Albuquerque and ruminates as to whether he should take the left turn or not. I end up trying one thing, deleting it (or crossing it out, if I'm going longhand) and trying something else, and then sooner or later I realize what needs to be done.
The observation is this: invariably, when I figure out what needs to happen at a spot like this, my immediate second thought is of my Muse grumbling thusly: "This is obvious, dummy! It took you three days to realize it? You imbecile! Why did I waste this story idea on you, anyway?"
The personal blog of author Kelly Sedinger, chronicling the adventures of one overalls-clad wanderer.
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