An Old Love of My Life

I was eight years old. I had recently written my Brave Girl Series (very lame, trust me) and I came across a picture I had drawn. (Thanks to this picture -->)

Inspiration struck (not unlike a hammer) and I started writing a story about two islands, a heroic girl, and one evil man.

Then I stopped. Probably had something to do with the fact that I moved from Virginia up to New York. Stories got boxed up and I moved on. Worked on Brave Girl Series again. Then there was the Underground (with plot inconsistencies that would take your breath away).

Later, when I was about seventeen and had recently finished the Novel of Magnitude (which needs more editing than a raw piece of chicken) I started typing again at that old story. Slashed the beginning. Expanded a scene. Added intrigue and mystery.

Then I hit a massive black wall. You see, I don't have Writer's Block. Sometimes there are pebbles or very small rocks. Sometimes there are caverns I cannot get to the back of, or canyons I cannot jump over quite yet. But this was a giant black wall that I could not climb. Having learned something about the writing process since I was eight I knew what I had to do. I set the story aside.

I even moved the story from my Serious Folder (the books I know I will finish) on my computer to my Idea folder. It felt like giving up, but I knew that one day - - One Day - - I would finish it.

Then a few days ago at dinner I finished eating my taco (so unrelated to my story. They don't have tacos in that world. They don't even have cows.) and quickly descended into Zombie Mode. I went downstairs and had to search desperately until I found it, buried within file folders (I have an obsession with file folders). I opened it up and read some to figure out where I was and I wrote, and I wrote.

The black wall was gone.

There is re-writing to be done. The Protagonist will probably have to be made younger, as it's more of a middle grade story than a young adult one (though it has some content, like people dying, that makes me uncertain). The beginning needs more work than a hurricaned beach house. My one character (Zing) desperately needs a new name. My eight year old self thought Zing was a great name, but my twenty-one year old self is not impressed.

I hope to finish at least the first draft of the story this year. I've been wanting to write a middle grade novel, and after reading a few dozen this past year I feel more confident in my ability.

It is so strangely peaceful to finally work on this book again. I have been waiting years and I cannot wait to see how it will finish out.

How 'bout you? Ever Re-Fallen in Love with a Story Idea? Ever had to take a break from a story, even if you Absolutely Loved it?