I Don't Know How to Kill Them. Or WHY!

This is going to be a quick update, because I'm running out of time today and I'm at Brother and Sister-In-Law's house watching the last Harry Potter movie. I think they will get annoyed by my constant typing if I go on as I usually do. So I'll just update you on how my novel is going. I apologize to those of you who just don't care about my fiction. I apologize, but this is still what I'm going to talk about today. So, you know, leave at will. But if you do, you might miss out on an opportunity to kill people. I'm just saying, is all...

Today I passed the 26,000 mark, which is a little behind schedule, but far more than I have ever written on a single novel before. So I feel a great sense of accomplishment! That has been quickly squashed by the overwhelming sense of OHMYGODICAN'T! But I have now discovered a few things about my characters. My leading man started out as a detective, but has now become a former Army MP who lost a childhood friend in battle and has both physical and emotional wounds because of it. My leading lady is more twisted and broken than I had originally conceived, which is interesting, since she was pretty messed up to begin with. I have finally gotten rid of the litter of puppies she accidentally adopted and have figured out how to connect her to the detective's case.

What I don't know is WHO KILLED NICKY SPARGO? He's my original victim. I've got bodies piling up all around him. I've killed off a judge and an ADA. I'm pretty sure I'll be killing off my leading lady's estranged father, connecting him to all the other victims. I've even connected this case back to my detective's very first homicide case. But I don't know who killed those people EITHER! OR WHY! So now I have to figure out creative ways for all of these people to have been murdered while linking them without making it look like they're linked or at least withholding that information until the opportune time and OHMYGODICAN'T.

Or at least I think I can't. And then I keep going. I keep writing. I get through a few more hundred, a few more thousand words. And I don't feel so bad. Until I remember all the time and words I wasted on those STUPID PUPPIES and I worry that I'm going to have to write over 100,000 words just to have enough book left when I cut out all the bad parts. And pacing. Oh, the pacing. It's bad. It's awful. It's... nonexistent.

But then I remember that all of those rules for writing: show, don't tell; don't give it all away at once; don't use adverbs when referring to dialogue; don't info-dump; make every scene meaningful; et cetera. The problem with these rules is that they're really rules for second drafts. And then I read a really awesome post by Near Normalcy that makes me feel like maybe I'm not so crazy after all.

But my point is, the time for letting the story flow around me has passed. I'm close to halfway through the novel and it's now time to start making some decisions and revealing some secrets and forming it all into a cohesive story that connects you to the characters and makes you fall in love with them and makes you remember my story long after you put it down and OHMYGODICAN'T. But... Who knows?

And most of this post has probably made little sense or served little purpose. For that, I am sorry. I needed to get some of this off my chest. I'll be back to being witty(?) and funny(!?) and interesting(heh...) tomorrow. Until then, if you know of any ways to kill someone or some very interesting and twisty motives for murder, which will OF COURSE be used only for fictional purposes (I think...), please leave them in the comments. Mkthxbye.