I’m really stuck.
Not with everything. I’m pretty un-stuck with the YA WIP, for instance, which currently goes by the working title of Mortal Foil. Guess where I came up with the name.
Seeing as I’m not stuck with that, nor any of my other undertakings (I would count study, but this is a study break, so I won’t count study), my brain instantly starts to find ways to pull my attention away from them to the one thing that I am really struggling with. And that would be, surprise surprise, Tallulah.
I’m just really frustrated. It feels like I can get it done really quickly, that I already know what it is that needs to be done, and that there isn’t actually that much work to do, at least in terms of how long it would take. I simply have absolutely no clue what that really quick and obvious way is. On top of that, now that I’ve got Mortal Foil to satisfy my itch to write narrative-driven stuff, the non-narrative aspects of Tallulah are starting to leap out at me as being the real core of the story, the part that makes the most sense to focus on, and that it’s actually not a narrative story at all. This would mean lots of changing of things, which runs counter to the whole ‘I can get it done really quickly’ thing. I don’t know what my mind is trying to tell me here.
And I know what I should do, and I’m going to do it: I’ll just stick to the plan I’ve got right now, even though it feels wrong, and see if the answer comes to me. But for now I’m very aggravated and disappointed in myself. I thought I was going to be on a roll, but instead now I’m idling in the middle of an empty street.
It happens. These days happen. Hell, these weeks, these years happen. I’m at the point where it’s only weeks at the worst, and that’s much better than what it used to be. And I know I have to put energy in to get energy back; I’ve been here before, and I’ve overcome it. I know the math.
It just sucks being here again. And I guess it’s okay. It’s not the end of the world; it’s not the end of anything. It just sucks.
But, I hate to end things on a low note. So here’s the pitch I wrote for Mortal Foil:
Allison Cross knows that if all the world’s a stage, then it’s a pretty small one, and there’s only so much spotlight to go around. On her 16th birthday, she’s hoping it will shine on her, even if only for a moment – and it does, but in no way she’d ever imagined.
She never imagined, for example, that she would be rescued from monsters by two random boys she met at a concert: Aidan Nottingham, bossy and glamorous, and Mordecai Turner, soft-spoken and burning with inarticulate passion. She never thought that, through them, she would discover her family’s connection to the Philosophers – a secret order of alchemists with the power to shape and mold the very foundations of the world. And she certainly never imagined that she would be one of the few people in history with the power to wield a Mortal Foil, an ancient alchemist weapon that harnesses the power of a person’s soul and transforms it into a peerless blade of Aether – the mysterious fifth element – nor that she would discover this by using one to save Aidan and Mordecai from monsters herself, or just how good it would feel.
But the Philosophers are not the only alchemists in town: she, Aidan and Mordecai must find a way to stop the Senate, a shadowy society of rogue alchemists, from finding the Immortal Foils, three ancient and cruel weapons with the power to steal a person’s soul, or to grant eternal life to the right – or wrong – person. Now the spotlight is fixed upon Allison as she enters this strange new world of adventure and mystery, danger and romance, where she will learn, to no-one’s greater surprise than her own, that she is not someone you want to cross.
I dunno, guys. I’m not quite convinced that it’s cheesy enough.