Messy Outline, But the Magic’s Coming

A progress report and #1000WordsofSummer

Ever stare at an outline so long it starts to look like a crime scene?

Yeah. That’s been me. For weeks.

I’ve been elbow deep in the skeleton of The Collective, my Southern Gothic-murder-mystery-romance-thing, rearranging bones and whispering, “Does this femur go here?” I’ve plotted. Replotted. Lit it all on fire. Salvaged it. Then considered setting it on fire again for emotional closure. And still, the damn thing won’t stop breathing.

The story follows Nicola, who returns to her haunted Louisiana hometown after years away. She’s got secrets. The town’s got secrets. There’s magic, murder, and middle aged women falling in love/lust when maybe they shouldn’t, but definitely should. It started as one thing and has been shapeshifting on me ever since.

Nicola’s arc is sharper now, less mopey revenant, more determined grief with a grudge.

Delphine, her childhood best friend, was meant to be supporting cast. Now she’s standing in the doorway of the supernatural, and maybe in Victoria’s arms too.

And…I finally cracked the code behind someone’s betrayal. It’s not hunger for power. It’s fear of becoming irrelevant. That unlocked a new layer for me.

Here’s what my characters think about it:

Nicola

“So you’re telling me this is why everything hurts? Great. Love that for me. Really living my best tragic heroine arc, huh?”

“Was the trauma strictly necessary, or did you just like the aesthetic?”

“Next time, maybe give me a heads-up before making me kill someone. I was eating soup.”

Victoria

“I suppose I should thank you for the wardrobe and the smoldering backstory. But really, you couldn’t give me one chapter where I’m not brooding into a whiskey glass?”

“You made me fall in love with a woman who sees ghosts and breaks hearts. Bold of you. I approve.”

Delphine

“Wait. I’m dating her now? Huh. Okay. Unexpected, but I can work with that.”

“This magic stuff was not in my original character pitch. I was supposed to be comic relief. What the hell happened?”

Grace

“I knew I was a plot device. I knew it. But at least I’m a hot one.”

“Honestly, I’d read this for the sex scenes. Can I get those pages separately?”

The one who dies

“A betrayal arc? How original. Just once I’d like to be the misunderstood one. Or at least the one who gets a redemption epilogue.”

“They killed me off? I was the only one with ambition!”

The Book Itself

“Listen, I tried to warn them. I whispered it in the margins, screamed it in the chapter titles. But no one ever listens to the book.”

Let’s be real…there are the days I wept

I’ve had a few days where the outline won. Where everything felt like it was unraveling and I couldn’t tell if I was writing a novel or exorcising something personal I hadn’t named yet. I cried more than once. There was one day I ended up face-down on the couch because Nicola’s grief cracked open something in my grief.

And then there was therapy. God, therapy. Big moves. Big feelings. You know that moment when you realize you’re not just writing characters healing from betrayal. You’re trying to understand what it cost you to keep trusting after being hurt? Yeah. That one.

This book isn’t just about women in love/lust and towns with secrets. It’s about surviving what you weren’t sure you could. About letting yourself want things again. About wanting too much and choosing to do it anyway. So yeah. I wept. But then I got up. And wrote more.

The Ending

I still can’t pin the ending down. I know Nicola kills someone. I know it’s not clean, not noble, not cinematic. It’s messy and raw and costs her something she won’t get back.

Some days I write it like a Greek tragedy. Other days it feels like it should take place in a whisper, the kind that leaves a room cold for years after. There are three different versions sitting in the outline right now. One has blood. One has silence. One has nobody looking directly at her and somewhere between those, I’ll find the truth.

1000 Words of Summer Starts… Tomorrow

Tomorrow kicks off 1000 Words of Summer, hosted by the glorious Jami Attenberg, a two week challenge to write 1000 words a day.

Am I ready?

Yes I “finished” the outline, but…No. Not even a little. But also yes. Because I know what’s beating underneath this chaos map. And sometimes the only way forward is to stop overthinking and write into the dark.

I’m showing up with my haunted outline, my feral characters, my therapist’s voice echoing in my head, and my completely unhinged soundtrack. I’m letting go of getting it right. I’m pulling the thread of what feels true and seeing where it leads.

Want to Join Me?

Wish me luck. Or send me courage. Or snacks. Or coffee. Better yet, join me. If you’re writing something messy, half-alive, or screaming in your head at 2AM, drop a comment. Let’s talk outlines, breakdowns, breakthroughs. Share your playlists and ghost theories. Tell me about the scene that ripped you open. I’ll tell you about mine.

“What writing a book really looks like: emotionally deranged collage art.”