When you’re writing a book, there are certain points that happen at certain times. Your inciting incident must happen within the first 25%. At the 75% mark, your character must make the final choice that puts him in place to meet the enemy during the climax.
The 50% mark comes directly in the middle of what is lovingly referred to as, the Dead Zone. This is during the second act of a typical 3 act structure, and often is murdered by well-meaning authors by sloppy scenes, lack of direction, and general boredom with the story/characters.
It doesn’t have to be this way. For writers who are very careful, the middle section can be an amazing way to showcase the character’s inner transformation. In fact, the 50% mark is often referred to as the “centerpiece” scene, the moment when the world changes and the character moves from reacting to the events of the plot and acting aggressively to change his or her own life. It is the focal point of the story. So much so, that some authors literally write this scene first, and then work forwards and backwards to complete their book.
I’ve been without Twitter for exactly 2 weeks now. And, I must admit, art really does imitate life.
Yesterday, I reached a weird 50% mark. I’m not really sure what inspired it. Perhaps it was the incredible love from the few tweeps who followed me over to Facebook. Perhaps it was a kind of catharsis from remotely participating in #FP. Perhaps it was pulling weeds in the garden with my daughter. I still don’t quite know.
Bottom line is, I got over it.
I moved from reacting to acting. A paradigm shift.
You see, I left Twitter because I had developed some concerning feelings for a few incredible tweeps. Not that I would have said anything, or acted on these feelings in any way. Just the having them was incredibly distracting for my life. For some, a twitter crush is not a big deal, I guess. For me, it was like nitroglycerin in a gasoline shop. (PS: If such a shop exists, I want to go to there)
So. I pined. I pined and opined and repined. I put my hand to my head and sighed and swooned. Secretly. Like a tragic heroine in some crappy British love movie.
But, yesterday, as I was running my fingers through the dark brown soil in my little garden, my daughter chirping to me as she created a fort from a copse of bushes nearby, I realized that I was happy. And, I was not missing anything. I felt like I was where I needed to be, and everything else became utterly extemporaneous.
I may have a problem with the internet. I may have a problem with social media. Still, I have reached the 50% point – the centerpiece of my personal plot. No matter how amazing my virtual life is, my real life is exactly where I need to be. Directing a musical. Growing carrots. Tickle fighting my daughter. Watching my husband fry a turkey. These things are worth 10.3k funny quips and a horde of tiny stories.
I might not be around as much anymore. I have a lot of real-life things to do, and not much time. If there are any major plot points, I’ll be sure to share them with you. If not, just know that I’m out there in the real world, trying to make my second act as fun and interesting as I possibly can. Interacting with my world and overcoming obstacles. Attempting to flesh out the unique character that is me.