![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic7jtBYKeLC8l4mfz_yaBYL-oW1Gg6qS_Xn34jdfwAij2YBC5vrF7r08_UlGtOcTw_eCgXabJpqgdnYtglLVBtngvlMS9EBmIdtfXtUciII_ms6oEADsv3_6a9L6CPQD_n6aAcVugtbHws/s200/handfire.png)
This sums up how I feel about my current manuscript. It is already so much different from what I had in mind when I started and what I wrote in my first draft (previously known as the Vomit Draft). I've already eliminated entire chapters, killed off some characters I thought would play central roles, and have even changed some of the key motivators driving the main character to do the (often stupid) things he does.
Despite how frustrating that may sound, however, I find the process invigorating. The story is becoming a story, not an attempt to become the Great Novel. The characters are becoming who they will be, and chances are they aren't going to be Madame Bovaries (apologies, Gustave) or Brothers Karamazov or Willy Lomans. All I can do, at this point, is get the story down, and be grateful if it's given the opportunity to "join all the other books in the world."
How do you handle your own cathedrals full of fire?
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