I've been rather worried for some time about the sequel to Sand Sifters. I mean, I know it is a trilogy - but I only have a vague idea about how it will end, and zero idea how it gets there. So I've edited Sand Sifters 1 with the uneasy realization that Mr. Ipsi wants to know what happens next - and I have no clue. Every idea I'd once had for the second was blown away by what happened in the first book.
This dry spell has lasted two years, where I just tried not to think about it. But I worried that my well had run dry before I even got to the second book. So I started a totally new novel in a different world, the Illuminators. Which I'm still excited about, though I am having some major world-building problems.
Then I was out weeding this week when the ideas started flowing. I was thinking about revolutionaries and what sort of person would make a good one, and who would make a poor one. Then I wrote a little sketch of a character talking about why she was not a good revolutionary and admiring someone who was, while the person she spoke to rejected her idea that a good revolutionary could be a good human being. And the second book of Sand Sifters series took form. Now I'm in full-planning mode and my cup it overfloweth with plot lines. And I'm left to wonder - where did it come from? Why didn't these ideas come sooner? What triggered this bounty? The more I write, the more I am baffled by the process that goes on in the brain. It is obvious to me that what I imagine comes out of what I have experienced and what I have learned of humans. But why is it coming together in this instance, when I'd already moved on to something else, rather than the hours I'd spent actually searching for the plot line and looking for answers?
Friday, June 27, 2008
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