A few short posts ago I was giddy about skipping over a few scenes in order to get my writing groove back. Don’t worry, the joy and mirth has ended. I hit a brick wall.
While I stared at the wall, and refrained from whining to you about it, I realized why I was having problems before and after the giant black plot hole: it’s because of what I knew.
Julia was making decisions based on plot points that I knew, not on what she knew…and those decisions didn’t make sense. I knew the answer she was looking for and while she didn’t know just yet, she wasn’t acting on all the possibilities out there, she was acting only on the possibility that I knew existed. I was blocking obvious leaps of logic and that was forcing her down a narrow road that didn’t make sense for her to go down…yet. That and I imagined the black plot hole of death to cover several tens of pages, all of which would have been of Julia doing the exact same thing to get to the exact same answer, over and over again. Redundant scene after redundant scene. Now, wouldn’t that have been a fun read?
So, now that I’ve diagnosed the problem, hopefully, getting back into the swing of things will be easy and that black hole will disappear rather quickly. Unless, of course, we’re only 20 minutes into an episode of House and my story is about to unexpectedly hemorrhage.