The road keeps on unwinding

So the official word count on The Novel is now 90,000 words SMF.

I thought I'd be further along the road by this time—and I'm getting there, but not as far as I thought 90k would get me.

One of the problems is I keep running into characters and situations I had not anticipated when I pulled out of the driveway and headed for the highway. These hitchhikers have all been so damned interesting it's been difficult to pass them by. And when I stop to let them in the cab, they make a compelling case for me taking that little detour to let them off 500 miles out of my way.

"You shouldn't have mentioned me in passing twelve chapters ago," one of them said, "if you didn't want me to hijack part of the story. I am not someone you can just pick up and drop off in front of the bus depot, you know."

And he was right. And she was right when she said, "I'm no casual affair. You will remember me."

I did. She kept coming back like a song on the radio, fading out with distance and—I'll be damned—coming up again when I got close to the next town. What could I do but sing along?

That's all right. They'll strut and fret their hour upon the . . . road, and then be seen no more. Overall, they've made the story richer. Come the rewrites, they may find themselves left behind, but maybe not. Because one thing these unanticipated characters have going in their favor is that it wasn't until I got to them that I began to understand what the real story is about. I thought I knew, but you hit a few potholes on the road and poom! It jogs something loose in the ol' creative spark machine.

"Oh," I mumble as I make the turn onto the new road, "so that's what I was talking about."