Trace (Male MC): I hate you. You know that, right?
Me (aghast): No, I had no idea. I thought we had a mutual respect for each other. Why? What’s going on?
Trace: I know what you’re thinkin’ and I don’t like it one bit.
Me: What I’m thinking? I’m not following you.
Trace: Yeah, the way you’re planning on ending the book. I saw your plot plans and I think you suck.
Me: Whoa! That’s mean and uncalled for.
(Trace shrugs his shoulder indifferent).
Me: So, do you mean the plot sucks or I, as a writer, suck?
Trace: All of the above.
Red (Female character): I agree with Trace. You totally suck.
Me: Red? You’re here too?
Red: I’m always here, remember? I live inside your head.
(Me putting my hands up in surrender): Okay. Okay. So what exactly are you both upset about?
Trace: I finally get what I’ve always wanted, and now you’re thinking of takin’ it away. That just ain’t right.
(Red nods in agreement): Why can’t you jus’ let us be happy?
Me: Is that why you guys have stopped talking to me? Why writing the last two chapters is like pulling teeth. (I know I used an idiom. I couldn’t come up with something clever. Forgive me).
Trace: We’re finally happy, well as happy as we can be while surrounded by a hoard of flesh eating zombies, and now you’re thinking of messin’ that all up, throwing us back into the mix of things.
Me: Well, umm, you guys do know there is a book number two in the works? I have to set up things up for that.
Trace: So you’re saying that you’ll fix everything in book number two? Make it all better? Give us our happy ending?
(Red talking to Trace): I heard a rumor that she’s got an idea for a third book in the making too. Book number two is jus’ an excuse to make us miserable now, but really we’re gonna be miserable FOREVER.
(Trace glares at me): More zombies? Are you kiddin’ me? So this is never goin’ to be over, is it? You’re just going to keep writing us into horrible zombie infested situations where we have to shoot our way out or die. That’s just great. That’s just spit in my beans fantastic.
Me: Wait. No. Someday it’ll get better--
(Trace turns his back to me): I ain’t talkin’ to you no more. I’ve had enough of this nonsense. I’m outta here. I quit.
(Red shakes her head while staring me down): You make me sick. You really do. Write what you have to, you’re just gonna have to do it without me. I’m leaving with Trace.
(All the minor characters walk away as well , each carrying picket signs and chanting: “Make Love Not Zombies”, “Give Peace a Chance”, “Angela Scott Sucks Snot”).
Me: Please don’t go. I need you. Come on guys, don’t be this way. Let’s work something out. I’ll give a brand new pony to anyone who chooses to stay. A pony? Wouldn’t that be nice?
Everyone turns and flips me the bird.
This is where my writing stands to date—it’s not happening. I have two or three more chapters to write to have a completed first draft and yet, the voices have vanished. They’re on strike. They hate me.
It’s been several weeks now and I’m not sure how to get them back. I need them. I’m picking out sentences here and there, but the feel isn’t right. I’m stumped and worried, what if they never come back? I will have a book with no ending. A BOOK WITH NO ENDING—there’s no such thing as books without endings (Okay there is that movie called “The Never Ending Story” but still).
I have to have an ending. That’s kind of a pretty set in stone rule—beginning, middle, end.
But I don’t know what to do. The voices that lead and direct my path have disappeared and I’m not sure what to do to entice them back. They didn’t go for the pony idea and so now I’m at a loss.
What do you do when the voices say bye-bye? Or are they always there? Or am I just crazy?
Me (aghast): No, I had no idea. I thought we had a mutual respect for each other. Why? What’s going on?
Trace: I know what you’re thinkin’ and I don’t like it one bit.
Me: What I’m thinking? I’m not following you.
Trace: Yeah, the way you’re planning on ending the book. I saw your plot plans and I think you suck.
Me: Whoa! That’s mean and uncalled for.
(Trace shrugs his shoulder indifferent).
Me: So, do you mean the plot sucks or I, as a writer, suck?
Trace: All of the above.
Red (Female character): I agree with Trace. You totally suck.
Me: Red? You’re here too?
Red: I’m always here, remember? I live inside your head.
(Me putting my hands up in surrender): Okay. Okay. So what exactly are you both upset about?
Trace: I finally get what I’ve always wanted, and now you’re thinking of takin’ it away. That just ain’t right.
(Red nods in agreement): Why can’t you jus’ let us be happy?
Me: Is that why you guys have stopped talking to me? Why writing the last two chapters is like pulling teeth. (I know I used an idiom. I couldn’t come up with something clever. Forgive me).
Trace: We’re finally happy, well as happy as we can be while surrounded by a hoard of flesh eating zombies, and now you’re thinking of messin’ that all up, throwing us back into the mix of things.
Me: Well, umm, you guys do know there is a book number two in the works? I have to set up things up for that.
Trace: So you’re saying that you’ll fix everything in book number two? Make it all better? Give us our happy ending?
(Red talking to Trace): I heard a rumor that she’s got an idea for a third book in the making too. Book number two is jus’ an excuse to make us miserable now, but really we’re gonna be miserable FOREVER.
(Trace glares at me): More zombies? Are you kiddin’ me? So this is never goin’ to be over, is it? You’re just going to keep writing us into horrible zombie infested situations where we have to shoot our way out or die. That’s just great. That’s just spit in my beans fantastic.
Me: Wait. No. Someday it’ll get better--
(Trace turns his back to me): I ain’t talkin’ to you no more. I’ve had enough of this nonsense. I’m outta here. I quit.
(Red shakes her head while staring me down): You make me sick. You really do. Write what you have to, you’re just gonna have to do it without me. I’m leaving with Trace.
(All the minor characters walk away as well , each carrying picket signs and chanting: “Make Love Not Zombies”, “Give Peace a Chance”, “Angela Scott Sucks Snot”).
Me: Please don’t go. I need you. Come on guys, don’t be this way. Let’s work something out. I’ll give a brand new pony to anyone who chooses to stay. A pony? Wouldn’t that be nice?
Everyone turns and flips me the bird.
This is where my writing stands to date—it’s not happening. I have two or three more chapters to write to have a completed first draft and yet, the voices have vanished. They’re on strike. They hate me.
It’s been several weeks now and I’m not sure how to get them back. I need them. I’m picking out sentences here and there, but the feel isn’t right. I’m stumped and worried, what if they never come back? I will have a book with no ending. A BOOK WITH NO ENDING—there’s no such thing as books without endings (Okay there is that movie called “The Never Ending Story” but still).
I have to have an ending. That’s kind of a pretty set in stone rule—beginning, middle, end.
But I don’t know what to do. The voices that lead and direct my path have disappeared and I’m not sure what to do to entice them back. They didn’t go for the pony idea and so now I’m at a loss.
What do you do when the voices say bye-bye? Or are they always there? Or am I just crazy?
