In honor of Mother’s Day yesterday, I decided to write the very end of *Glimmer*, the scene in which I had promised my fan that Z and A would finally do it. I’m super appropriate that way. I listened to Taylor Swift the entire time I was writing just to up the creepiness I always feel when I write about teenagers making out.
The scene was one of the first I’d thought of when I was in the thinking it through stage with *Glimmer* and it’s been in my head for at least six months. When I sat down to write a horror piece yesterday, the “losing it” scene is what I felt like writing instead. I impose all of these rules on myself, rules that I don’t even know I’m imposing half of the time. One of them would be that I have to write a novel chronologically. But why? I said to myself yesterday. A novel is basically a bunch of scenes tied together, and if I use my plotting like I’ve been trying to do, it won’t hurt anything to write the scenes out-of-order. Because, while making out scenes make me feel a little like a YA Larry Flynt, they’re also pretty fun to write.
I’m at the halfway point in *Glimmer*, trying to work on smooth transitions and I’ve been a bit stuck with regards to inspiration. The enticement of writing a make out scene, or a showdown, or an accident scene is too great when you’ve been writing paragraphs about GED requirements, bed rest, and depression. Those last three are topics that have to be written to further the story along, but they’re not fun, so I think I’ll write on the fun scenes for a while and then come back to the mundane to put it all together.
You don’t have to write a book in order. I needed to learn that. *Glimmer* is actually the first 250-300 page book I’ve ever tried to write. Glimpse was a novella that got added on to, so in truth, I wrote 125 pages twice, four years apart. I’m learning how to pace, how to bring the plot together all at once on *Glimmer.*
Now I’m off to feed the kids and then perhaps write a few pages of mayhem, fire, and freaked out powers, not necessarily in that order.