Not the blog, not even this post. Me. Myself. I. Have. Been. Hijacked.
I don't even know what happened. One minute I'm lamenting my progress on my latest, awesome full-fledged fantasy novel, and the next I'm writing crime drama. With nary a unicorn or flash of unexplained light in sight.
Please tell me I'm not alone. Please say that yes, you too have been taken over by a story idea so compelling, so complete, that you have to stop everything else and write it. Over 5k words yesterday, another today--at this rate I'll be done by the end of next week. It's insane. When I'm not writing it I'm thinking about writing it. And I've dreamed about it twice.
And I don't even know if I'm going to ever want to PUBLISH IT. The story is such a sharp departure from anything else I've ever done, I don't know what my readers would think. Maybe I'll do what other writers have done before me and use a different form of my name to publish under. You know, Cheri Chesley for YA fantasy but C.L. Chesley for crime drama. I dunno.
I just wish I knew why now, and why this story? It's dark, with some chapters from the POV of the victim. It's scary--the kind of thing that makes me want to hold my kids tighter at night. I'm looking for the redeeming quality and not finding much. Why share that kind of story with the world? What is the purpose behind it?
So maybe I won't publish it. Maybe it's a writing exercise meant to make my publishable works better.
Or maybe I'm over-thinking the whole thing. Cause that's never happened before.