I Feel Stupid

There comes a point--usually somewhere between Chapter Five and Chapter Ten of any book I have written (except for my Daredevil book, because it was outlined to a faretheewell and beyond) where I am suddenly unsure where the hell the book is going, and how to get there. I liken my process (insofar as I have a process) to having a topographical map: I know the beginning is here (points to one point on the map) and the end is there (points to another point on the map, with all sorts of interesting terrain in between). I don't know the roads I will take. So I start out jauntily, and somewhere around the end of the first quarter/first third of the book, I get lost.

I have never, thus far, failed to figure out where I'm going. I usually find that I have left myself clever sign posts and caches of supplies somewhere along the route thusfar taken. This is gratifying. But when I'm lost I just feel stupid. And the more stupid I feel, the more stupid I feel, if you get what I'm saying. I am there right now, teasing out the mechanics of the background Evil Plot so that my heroine can find useful clues which will permit her to sort out the mystery by the end of the book. And every time I look at the snarl of character action I have more questions rather than fewer, and I feel stupider.

I have never, thus far, failed to sort things out, polish things up, and finish the book. But this point--this point--in the process sucks. And makes me feel stupid, which is not a feeling I embrace. And job hunting (another rejection this morning, alas) doesn't help the "boy am I stupid".

If I seem a little cranky until I get the book under control, well, I probably am. Apologies.