I’ve struggled with this dilemma ever since my muse kicked me to the curb and decided I’m only visiting material. Personally, I think she left to take a course on Murphy’s Law, or duties/karate lessons/oops, forgot mom was waiting in the parking lot moments. That last one was yesterday, and I got an hour and a half of golden writing time. There are times when being taken for granted rocks, especially when you’re smart enough to use the opportunity to guilt the offender into doing dishes, but I digress...
So where am I going with this? I am a Turtle. My writing partner is a Hare. I went to her house last week where we mapped out our next book. As I was leaving, I joked about finding the prologue in my inbox by the time I got home, which was about an hour and a half drive. That was Wed., it arrived by Fri. afternoon, along with almost complete character arcs. And I have no doubt she waited extra time before sending it to me.
If you’re thinking I’m upset here, you’re wrong. The thing is, I love her for this. See, the fable has it backwards. The Turtle does not win the race. Without the Hare, the Turtle never even finishes the damn race. He’s constantly distracted by perfecting the details. In search of this perfection, he makes one pit stop too many and ends up swimming in a pot of soup.
The Hare continues to do what a rabbit does best - “put out” with amazing focus and dedication - and leaves a legacy.
I know I’ll never be the Hare (the likes of which includes Nora Roberts), but I don’t want to be the Turtle anymore, either.
More on this as it develops. I haven’t perfected the details yet.