It would be ‘another day, another dollar’, but sadly economic conditions haven’t been favourable so it’s ‘another week, another dollar.’
Yup, I have another job to fill my time, But that’s okay because I’m getting to read tomorrow’s stories today. And anyway, I’m stuck on Breathing Fire.
It’s a simple thing. I’ve reached the end of a section and don’t know whose head to hop into next. I’ve been rotating nicely through my cast of POV characters. And I know generally where my story’s going. But, for some reason, I’ve hit a hump and can’t think where to go next.
This is where first person has the edge. You’re always in one person’s head and there’s no choice: if you’re writing chronologically – as I do – then the next action is always the next significant experience of that person. Of course, sometimes it’s hard to work out what’s significant and there are plenty of difficulties therein.
But I have about seven different perspectives I can choose from. Which I opt for – well, I really shouldn’t say this, but oftentimes it’s pretty much random. Who hasn’t said much recently? Who’s most interesting? Who’s most active here? There’s just too much choice and often I find myself thinking ‘well, just commit and make it work.’
Have I discussed phase space in these pages before? It’s a concept in physics which is remarkably applicable in storytelling. Put (over) simply, it’s every possible outcome to anything. Start with a great ‘space’: this represents everything in your world of story. Then draw a dot in it: that’s your starting point. Before you lie infinite options. Narrow the choices by selecting genre, setting, mood. Start writing and trace a line across that infinite plane. Ahead of you is everything, but only certain everythings will make sense. Phase space collapses. Options coalesce. The further you get, the more you commit to a plotline or a trope the smaller the arc of infinity that can be chosen from.
This is what I mean when I say ‘phase space collapses’, which I do remarkably often in the privacy of my own head.
If I haven’t rambled about this before it’s because it’s devilish hard to communicate meaningfully, concisely. And I am an idiot. And all I’ve just written is probably entirely incorrect. There’s also no useful – or pretty – images of it either, which is why you’re getting space pics instead.
Anyway, I bring this up because I am stuck. I am nearly at the end of my novel and so phase space is a fairly narrow beam. It should, therefore, be easy to see a way forwards – and, on the broader axis, it is – I know exactly where I’m going.
But it’s like a torchbeam shone upon a distant object: I can see it, the destination, perfectly clearly. But there are mantraps and ditches and tangling roots right at my feet. Do I take my eye off the prize in order to light my path?
Also I am so close to the end that I just want to get there. I want to leap all these obstructions and land hard at the finishing post. But I can’t. I won’t let myself. I have to earn the journey, not skip the effort on the train like some of the first riders of the Tour de France did.
Any now I am stuck. I have too many options. I just need to make myself commit and then run with the consequences. But for now my narrow arc of phase space is open in front of me and, combined with the white blank page of my word processing software, I am frozen into inaction.
Maybe I should just go back to my editing. Plenty to get on with there.