Seeing as it’s the end of October in Portland, the rain is back. Nothing new there. But what is new on my street is this wooden canopy over the sidewalk, a neat way to stay dry thanks to the construction crew of the Janey II. There’s a lot of building activity on the upper floors of these apartments-to-be, and I expect the wooden canopy has nothing to do with precipitation and everything to do with protecting pedestrians from objects raining down from above.
Book Three has no such canopy. I sometimes wish it did. I sometimes wish that the scenes I write in later chapters wouldn’t drop inconsistencies and other pesky problems on earlier parts of the narrative. I sometimes wish that all aspects of every character and plot would stay just as I originally conceived of them months ago. How much easier writing Book Three would be!
And how boring.
The truth, at least for me, is that I relish unexpected changes in the story as chapter after chapter unfolds in my neurologically churning brain. Consistency falls at the feet of creativity, and that’s how I work best. Revising. Looking again with a fresh perspective. My literary version of the Janey II’s wooden canopy isn’t there for protection, but for my collection of notes to self to rethink and rework the beginning parts of Book Three. As annoying and as time consuming as that might be at times, I wouldn’t have it any other way.