I had forgotten how smoothly one can transition from having a plan to making up another one to supersede it in the heated moments that come with writing stream-of-consciousness prose narrative.
The thing is, it’s not a bad change. In fact it’s a potentially wonderful, productive, story-galvanising change that would tie up a bunch of things and allow others to be more fleshed-out.
What to do. What to do.
I mean I could just roll with it. I could. It’s all going to be revised anyway.
This entire revision process, in fact, is so that I will have something to revise, so why not just throw in the kitchen sink? I’ll just revise it later.
Yeah. Yeah that sounds good. I think I’ll just
MAKE NOTES LEAVE THEM ALONE AND STICK TO THE FREAKING PLAN.
That’s what the plan is for. To be stuck to.
I will not deprive myself of this valuable learning experience! No, my plan does not feel like a whole story; it’s not a whole story, it’s an outline for a structural edit!
It is a good idea, this change, so I made a note of it, so that I can come back to it later and think: ‘Yeah, that does actually work’ – OR: ‘Wow, I am so glad I didn’t just put that in there in the heat of the moment like a moron and give myself another insert-long-amount-of-time-here worth of work to do just disentangling myself from this narrative nightmare, good foresight Jason well done gold star’.
MAKE NOTES. Notes are so generous with what they do for you as a storyteller, while you’re in the process of forming the story, beta-testing or whatever – they give you room to explore without having to risk your important structural work, room to be spontaneous and curious without compromising solidarity. Get the solidarity down, then play around.
This, of course, is after I’ve already played around, and am now making solidarity out of that spontaneity. And that’s fine. But if you have a plan, stick to it, and let it teach you something.