Dreams of impending editorial doom

I alluded to in yesterday's blog, I've now reached that point in the book I'm writing (Con & Conjure), where I have this subconscious feeling/gnawing that the book isn't where it's supposed to be. In plainer language, I fear that it sucks.

But it doesn't. I know it doesn't.

I know WHAT happens in the rest of the book, I just don't know HOW it happens. And I won't know how it happens until I write it. Simple.

The impending suckatude is my subconscious talking. My rational daytime mind knows that if I stick to my schedule, I'll have the book finished on May 1, which will leave me an entire month to go back through the book, to tweak, delete, add, mess, and fuss with the manuscript. But when I get to this point (75% finished) in EVERY BOOK, my muse starts trying to make me link everything together, find the holes/cracks/bottomless gorges. It's not time to go gorge huntin' yet. That's for AFTER May 1st. She doesn't listen; instead she send me dreams to try to get her point across.

Last night was a double-feature of weather-gone-amok destruction. I think she uses the weather analogy to imply that I can't control the weather, therefore I can't control the impending book doom and destruction.

In the first one, I was on a third-floor balcony of a Miami beachfront retirement community (I'm only 46, so don't ask me why I was in a retirement community, ask my nutty muse), the ocean had risen to the first floor. The water was very pretty and blue -- but it was still rising. On the heels of that lovely tableau, was an impending nightime tornado. It was coming in this red-tinged cloud, and we were running like hell for the basement, though we were pretty sure the house above said basement was going to collapse on us when the tornado hit, trapping us under the rubble.

Nice.

Both dreams ended before the doom & destruction actually happened. Jeez, are those impending book doom dreams, or what?

Nice try, Muse. Is that all you've got? (evil grin)