Stop. Rewind. Rewrite.

After spending days struggling with the chapter that would not die, I finally beat it into a shape I was pretty happy with. Then, talking to Dystophil today, it's decided that all that struggle, all that time, effort, and work were all for nothing. Because things need to be tightened up. Because things aren't moving. Things aren't working. Something, other than the chapter that would not die, went wrong.

I can see Dystophil's point. I even agree with it. But what I've written is good. Good enough to sell? I don't know. But if I were more worried about getting published than I was with enjoying what I do, then I wouldn't be writing Urban Fantasy.

Still. I do want to write to the best of my ability. And if that means scrapping eight chapters and revising a large chunk of story, than that's what I'll do.

Turns out it wasn't quite a full eight chapter. I kept most of three, where she first meets Revenant. The end, though, I've rewritten, and have started chapter four. Again. So far, I like where it's going, like the possibilities it presents. I'm almost certain that it's better than what I had originally. It's still hard, though. It's throwing away 14,000 words. Out of 18,000. That's a lot of progress, gone. Thrown away. Not to be used.

So, even though I like where the new material is taking me, I'm angry about having to give up so much progress. I want to have this finished before the Backspace Writers' Conference. That's roughly five months out. Five months to write, revise, and polish a manuscript, query letter, and synopsis. It'd be easy, if I weren't also a full time student.

Ah well. Life is full of choices. I've made mine. Now to make the best of them.