So I roll out of bed this morning, exhausted yet again (self diagnosis: dehydration, drink your damn water, moron...). Anyway...where was I? Ah yes, rolling out of bed. Well, my feet no sooner hit the floor when my churning brain is trying to figure out where I'm going with this story I'm trying to write. I have some scenes figured out in the beginning, and some in the middle, some later on in the book. But I'm having trouble getting it to gel together. I have it loosely plotted but not the way I normally do. I wonder, in my bleary eyed state as I stumble to the bathroom--is this how pantsers feel? And how do they function if it is??
By the time I'm inhaling the fumes of my brewing coffee I realize I could never survive as a pantser. I need to get this storyline figured out. I need...my eyes ping open like a cartoon character having a light bulb moment. I need my scene capsules! Of course, how could I have forgotten??
I grab my java and a bowl of All Bran and blueberries and rush downstairs to the computer. I dig up the file with the blank form. I feel better instantly. My brain starts churning with ideas as I begin to chart the opening scenes. I come to a few realizations. My characters begin to talk to me. We get reacquainted. I try desperately not to call my hero Dash with only minimal success. Maddie's name change comes easier, although her last name is still up in the air.
I realize my hero has no son, but my heroine definitely has a daughter. That there's a bloodhound named Utah who belonged to Logan's uncle who really did die in a fire. The original ideas rework themselves to fit into the new plot. I breathe a sigh of relief. This might work after all...