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So I’ve hit the middle of the beginning, a phrase that sounds a lot like I’m in my early late twenties (cookie to anybody who gets that admittedly vague movie quote) — a lot like seriously fine hairsplitting, that is.

But whatever. My books tend, if in an occasionally meandering way, to follow three act structure, and the amount of melodramatic writerly angst I’m putting out there actually follows the same structure pretty closely. Setup is all about quiet torment and building tension; confrontation is (as anyone who has read my Dreaded Middle posts of yore knows all too well) anything but quiet and usually overdone; resolution is painful, but satisfying. This process is played out and replayed through each section of the book, and, sadly, often through each pivotal scene.

(Reading over this, it’s a wonder, really, that I have someone voluntarily living with me.)

Anyway, here I am in the early middle of the beginning– which is to say deep in setup and still shoveling madly. This is usually the point where it’s make or break for me: if I don’t feel like this book is going to work, this is where I’ll decide that. If it takes off and I can see, however vaguely, a kickass resolution 80 or 90 thousand words down the road, I’ll go for broke.

Which is not to say I can’t abandon a project past this point, just that I never have.

Somewhere in here I generally get my first oh hey, this is a major theme, or holy hell, that’s what my MC really is moment. This is something outside of the mad plotting that I call outlining; it’s more of the lightbulb-popping-on-over-the-head variety of realization. It’s a whole new level of connection to the story, and the main character.

And, happily, I’ve hit my first one of those. Definite yay.

So damn the torpedoes, clear the decks, and somebody hand me another shovel: I think this is going to be a pretty good book. πŸ˜€