Candy covered kudos to any reader who can tell me the origin of the title of this post. For those sans clue, this phrase means to approach your greatest fear with fierce determination and trembling lip, almost turn tail and run sixteen times on the way, get to its door and pound with your tiny fist. When the fear shows its face, you reach deep into your flour bag and throw a mighty handful right on the kisser. Then run, girl, run.
I did so, more or less, last week. For writers, there are infinite variations but a finite number of plots or situations one can write on. Notice that when someone comes up with a newish one, the pubs pounce on it and devour it whole, though most of the time even the newish ones have been done afore, like taking an existing product and putting a clock in it.
At my fine writing group on Tuesday night, one writer mentioned that an author she had recently read and enjoyed had written a previous book, and that book seemed to have the same premise as the novel I am currently working on.
I'm not ashamed to tell you, dear readers, that the heart dropped. Dropped, seemingly down into the stomach, which, not expecting a sudden visit from his upstairs neighbor, wasn't pleased.
The next day, I just happened to be passing the library and shot in like a streak to see just what the he!! this woman's book was about. I searched. I found. I skimmed, viciously.
The bad news: basically the same premise.
The good news: vastly different character, writing style and outcome. Also, the approach to the idea is quite different.
So, I can safely say the worst has happened, novel-idea wise, and I have survived.
My new and improved-for-optimum-doability goal before I leave for vacation on 5/15 is to finish the edit of a story (see post "the girls alright with me") and send it out to only the finest establishments before we jet off. That way, I'll have responses to look forward to when we return from the land of salt and cider.