Confuddled

Let me tell you a story about poor little Incubus:

While I have wanted to be a writer since I was really young, that goal got sidelined for some time while I was busy trying other things in life. Then, just over a year and a half ago, I had a dream. When I woke up, I just knew I needed to start writing again.

I spent the next days coming up with a plot based on said dream (by the time I was done, I actually had plots for three novels). Then I sat down and tried to write the thing. But nothing came out. I struggled and fought and couldn’t get any words out. Eventually I figured out that I had gotten into my own head and psyched myself out. I had thought so much about the story and was trying so hard to get it out, that I didn’t realize that it was not the story I really needed to tell.

A few days later, I sat down and started free writing. It wasn’t until I was nearly four chapters into my new story that I realized–holy crap!–I was writing Incubus. It wasn’t at all the story I had plotted out, but the more I wrote, the more it morphed into a better version of that story. I kept on writing until I hit a wall.

Then, I completely rewrote what I had so far from a different POV and with quite a few tweaks. Incubus is the only book I have stopped and rewritten before I finished the first draft, and I did it more times with this book than I care to admit.

Finally, I turned out a really crappy first draft. Come to think of it, really crappy doesn’t quite do justice to just how bad this draft was. It was so abysmal it probably shouldn’t even be considered a real draft. It was so bad, that no amount of edits would save it; Incubus was going to need another rewrite.

I sat down before I started writing again and figured out what it was that was not working. I tweaked the plot and added some depth to the back story. After quite some time working out all the kinks, I was finally completely satisfied with what I had outlined. I mean, I am really really happy about where this book is going (finally). It just feels right, and I know this is the story I am meant to write.

But, there is still a problem. See, no matter how pleased I am with the story and how confident I am that I finally got it right, I can’t get the words on the paper. I know that writing is often hard, and I am prepared to do the work, but there is something different about what is happening here.

After a lot of fretting about this and a lot of talking to Bubba and Lilah, I decided that maybe I am just not ready to write Incubus yet. No matter how badly I want it, maybe it is not what I should be focusing on right now. Maybe, just maybe, I should let Kyle and Jayne simmer on the back burner for a while while I write something else*. In the end, wouldn’t the story be better served if I waited until I was ready to tell it?

So readers, question for you:

In my situation, what do you do? Do you keep plodding through and finish what you started, or do you push it aside and write something else for the time being?

*Yeah, this is gonna be really hard for me to do–I am incredibly stubborn–but it might be the best thing for the book.