Draft 2

It's funny, how a single new idea can upset months of work. Despite my earlier trepidation, I find that I am eager to begin with the prospect of this story blossoming beneath my hands in an entirely new direction, one that could take it far further and with greater depth than Draft 1.

I was once told that the best way to begin a story is by stating a concise, well-compacted fact that will, with its presentation, snag the reader and encourage them to read onward. I have, in the past, not stayed true to this, but the concept behind a single fact being stated that requires further explanation, can shock the reader with a jarring phrase, or flow delicately into the next paragraph. I have always had a taste for flowery description and prose, but there's something enticing about disrupting a pleasant scene and throwing the reader into complete chaos as the characters within one's stories are presented with the problem at hand.

For the past four days I have been debating upon how to begin Draft 2. Again, the old lesson returned and I decided that it should begin simply, with something easy for the reader to infuse, process, and continue to explore as it grows. In this case I decided to begin with a cheerful memory of the main character's childhood, a lighthearted foray into better times, before throwing them into the chaos of the current situation with which the book begins. I am not entirely sure as to how it will pan out, but I have a feeling that whatever the result, it will not be what I expected.

I always end up running hundreds of scenarios through my head before I sit down to the actual writing; I decide how to begin, and then immediately the story takes a turn in a direction I didn't even remotely consider. I suppose that's one of the most fascinating things about writing; sometimes it seems as if a story develops and grows of its own volition as much as the writer's, living, exhaling words and scenes and plot twists. There is nothing more satisfying than watching your story unfold before your very eyes; each new page is like a new breath of air, like you didn't realize you'd never breathed before, never opened yourself to the world around you.

Draft 2 has begun, and I'm positively ecstatic because it looks to be twice as good as the last, and twice as complex. I think I need challenges in my life; they provide compulsion, drive, dedication; all things that I would be floundering without. This story is indeed one of my greatest challenges, and my fingers shudder with anticipation above the keyboard even now, ready to begin the challenge anew.

So I went back on my original declaration that I wasn't going to start editing until I had finished the first draft. As I was driving down the highway for many long hours, as is often the case, I found myself imagining two children running through a field, spurred on by the sounds of war, and disappearing into the trees, taking flight as far as their feet could carry, and it occurred to me that my dissatisfaction with the beginning of my novel was easily remedied by this situation, but not easily integrated. As such, I am in the process of reorganizing the sequence of events and altering it to accept this beginning.

Funny, that such a restart coincides with the new year.