“Kill your darlings.”
It’s attributed to Virginia Woolf, but someone else said it. She just lived by it. In a draft or two, I’m hoping to follow her example.
I’m currently lighting votive candles at the altar of St. Virginia the Ruthless, as I wrestle the octopus-arms of plot in the current NaNo novel. I just edited the love/sex scene that was defeating me before, because I had thoughts that it was weird to write something quite that mixed. Sex and death, time and mortality (hard to avoid that when my hero is a resurrected sacrifice from the first century C. E.), the Rubicon and Chernobyl and the lost legions of Varus, along with the dead mothers of Our Hero and Our Heroine. Oh yes, and some rather sweet nookie, but that’s the icing.
I still have to deal with the long-lost brother, the serial killer, and the aftermath of the fight scene in the bog. I’m still hoping to have this Loose Baggy Monster in first draft for my first-draft beta readers by midnight on New Year’s Eve. It’s looking like a close-run thing at this point.
An aside: the more I learn about bogs, the more I am inclined to admire them from the greatest possible distance.