Conflict in anyway isn’t the world’s most comfortable or welcomed scenario. No one wants a battle they have to fight, especially when they are frustrated and trying to get comfortable with the whole process.
I’m facing one such conflict, and it’s to do with all these sheets of paper, paper that holds a dream, a story. And then there are the other sheets that hold annecdotes and comments pertaining to the story. What should be, how it should be, what could be, and I have literally spent days trying to weigh their value, their wisdom, and most of all, I’ve spent hours trying to fix the plot, but barely made a dent it it.
The problem isn’t that’s I’m not willing to do what it takes. Nor is it that I refuse to ‘kill my darlings’. In fact, the problem is the many headed dragon. The many variables that I could change, those that need changing, and most importantly, those that must stay at all cost. My head is swimming, fogged up with anxiety. And the question that’s plaguing it? ‘Is the second draft going to be stronger, better yet retain it’s core essence?’
Can I tell this beautiful story about a family without losing the small beauties of it? Yikes. Talk about a heavy responsibility. My internal battle had only just begun. Each scene is going under the microscope, and some will come out unscathed, some with a facelift, and some will be mercilessly removed from the canvas all together.
I’m not comfotable, I’m not happy. I’m just worried about the story. The people is brings to life. I somehow feel a great sense of responsibility. However this length of time goes, at the end of the day, it’s the critics who can tell me how I went.
Sigh. I’m only on Act One.