With most of my novels-in-progress, there comes a time when I question my original vision and consider a new direction. This most often happens when life has necessitated a break in writing–a family visit, a trip, a booking to work on a film (cash to fuel my writing habit!). Some writers take this in stride. I do not.

A friend popped by my campsite yesterday and we chatted about this very thing. She is a poet and enjoys shifting from one project to another. My process is the opposite. I need to stay obsessively with my work, my characters, the core of my intended story every day, or it wobbles. Life gets in, which mean new ideas do too. Sometimes this is good. I won’t know until I get to the end. IF I get to the end.

Yesterday as I walked along the lakeshore, I considered the novels I love to read; the ones that move me, stay with me. Those are two different sorts for me. I love thrillers and mysteries, which leave my heart firmly in place, and I love family stories rooted in love. My intent has been to have both in this story. That is as plotted. The wavering occurred when I considered if the story I intended needs the thriller elements to work. The truth is, no. Two failed grant applications may speak to this–I don’t and won’t know, because jury comments are confidential.

I could write this story straight up about a fractured relationship between mother and daughter who find their way back to one another through a series of events.

But hang on, that would require a whole other series of events than what I’ve planned.

Hang on again…maybe the antagonist is someone other than who I thought it would be, which changes everything, but maybe for the better?

Life gets in. My preference would be to stay with a story dawn to dusk, shunning life, nibbling cheese and sipping tea when necessary to keep the body fuelled. But maybe life getting in is okay. Maybe this story will be better for it.

Only one way to find out….