I've been procrastinating a lot lately. Hell, I'm procrastinating now! But I'm at the stage of starting a new WIP which involves a lot of thought.
I had this idea, and I liked it so much I gave it priority over an idea I'd been gestating (gorgeously gross word) for a few months. I've sorted my premise, planned and named my characters, and started getting to know them. I've got the beginning and the end, and then I realised... I have no middle. I am essentially plot less. Pants.
Or not pants. I refuse to write this one pantser-style. Plotting worked too well last time, and so that's what I'm doing. Or, not doing, as it happens. In my defence, I have actually been busy, a bit, but that doesn't stop the nagging guilt. So yesterday I bought myself a nice new pack of Post-It notes, and picked a blank wall.
After about an hour it became clear that yes, I do have plot holes. Massive plot holes. Boyfriend expressed concern the chosen wall would be too small. Not currently a problem. But hey, my thoughts are organised now. I decided the situation required deep thought, and took me and my tired self to bed.
I seem to have got into this habit of not being able to sleep until after midnight. It's like my body knows mornings are rubbish and is encouraging me to enjoy the night. NOT HELPFUL, BODY. But concerned as I was by the acres of white space on my Post-It wall, I used this time to think about my plot. And boy did I think. I had a break through. A renaissance. A bolt of inspiration. It was brilliant, perfect, and oh, so simple.
Then I fell asleep. And now I can't remember any of it.
So here we are. No further on, and twice as cheesed off. But on the plus side, while I was procrastinating the other day, I drew this picture of Lady Jane Grey. So there's that.