Today has been frustrating.  

Oh, yes.

My husband had to do that tough-love thing he does every once in a while.  This time it went like this:  "You need to just write something instead of sitting around feeling sorry for yourself because you haven't been able to sell THE FAKE MCCOY."

Similar to the teenager I used to be who got so sick of being told to clean her room, I rolled my eyes.  And sulked.  

Notice that I did not just automatically start writing because he told me I need to.  That approach didn't work when my mom tried it with my room half my life ago, and it doesn't work for writing either.

But it did make me think.  About why I'm not writing.  About why I haven't been writing.  First, it was because I needed a break.  Then it was because I had characters but no story.  Then I needed a hook.  And on and on and on.  Gradually, it's been coming together.  I have characters and a story.  My outline is still incomplete, but I know exactly where I'm going with the main plot.  I have a hook.  I've done a fair amount of research.  

So, I should be set to go, right?  The problem--as I've finally identified it as of two hours ago--is that my character's emotional journey doesn't go to a dark or deep enough place.  

I never think of myself as someone who loves the dark, but I think... I kind of do.  I like to read about loss and acceptance.  I like to write about those same things.  I don't want to go the death route again.  Really!   But I want to write something that will affect someone.  Something that will move them.  And even more, I want to write something that will affect and move me. 

Humor and pathos.  That's what writing fiction is all about for me.  But this story idea I've been developing for MEOW doesn't go far enough.  I think what I need to do is find an element I can add that will make me care more about my character.  Something that will make me need to tell her story.   Not just because the so-called hook is fun and has potential and blah blah blah, but because the story and character actually matter to me.   

God.  Writing it out here makes it sound so OBVIOUS.  How did I manage to get all lost and screwed up with this anyway?