Chapter 9 of the serial proceeds apace. There’s a certain fight scene I want to write, and it requires me to listen to Aerosmith’s Rag Doll over and over again. The cyborg has to fight off a whole hell of a lot of other cyborgs, and things are going to get a little unpleasant for her.
There comes a point, sometimes midway, sometimes a little earlier or later, when stories–even the ones you know the “beats” and the form of pretty thoroughly going in–take on a life of their own. They decide where they’re going, how long it’s going to take them to get there, and all associated things, and all one can do is throw up one’s hands and hope. Submission to the story, and faith that it’s going to turn out all right.
I’d forgotten how fun it is to write serial-structure, too. How tightly it forces one to focus on the “beats” within each scene and chapter, and how one has to arrange all the pieces in order to make them fall the way they need to in the end. Like writing on spec, or writing within a genre with really tight confines, it makes you get creative with subverting your tropes and whatnot.
In other words, hellaciously good fun.
Now I’ve got to get that damn scene finished so I can leave the chapter behind and stop playing that song…