In 2009 or so, I daydreamed up a little story about a young woman who falls in love with a gondolier. Six years later I’m still trying to work it out – it’s a difficult labor and while the end is in sight, it’s going to be a messy birth. And there’ll be a lot of shit on the table. That metaphor got away from me.
I keep writing myself into corners. The original story was clear-cut, but suffered from being overly preachy. I think I’ve toned down the black-and-white mortality, but now that the parents are less The Bad Guys, the love interest has filled the void and become an antagonist. It makes more sense this way, but I’m having a hard time justifying my main character’s role in the romance.
Been dragging my feet over at critters.org. I need to keep my participation percentage up if I ever want to submit, but it’s hard to be enthusiastic when it doesn’t look like I’ll ever finish anything I’ve started.