Is it compulsion? I don’t know. But I can’t seem to help myself (hmmm, sounds like compulsion).
Melanie sent her chapter a few days ago. Lots of dialogue, fun quick read where her hero Autumn, with help from her mom and a local community centre, is starting to come to terms with my hero Cody. She handed off the story ball to me, with the idea that Cody could meet up with a regular at the centre and, well, learn some things. Easy score. Touchdown.
So why can’t I just run forward? Why do I have to stop, and examine the ball, and fumble it around, and then dart sideways? What instinct prompts me to do the hard thing, the unexpected thing?
My chapter stars with Cody trying to help, but before too many pages go by he’s in a messy misunderstanding with the community centre regular and some euchre-playing ladies. (Actually, they’re kind of fun. One of them is a dead-on portrait of my late aunt.)
When the whistle blows to end the play, I’ll hand back the story ball after a loss of a few yards. Can Melanie cure my compulsion? Can she bear with me? Can she at least get me to switch metaphors? I’ll let you know next time.