It was going so well, too...

Writing, as I wind down on the book that is due December 1, has gone well the past couple of weeks. I've gotten out of a snarl or two. I've said--right out loud-- "Where in the world did that come from?" when the plot took off on its own in the middle of the night and came back with surprises. I've told Duane, "I can't write one more word. My brain is just totally fried," before coming back out to the office and writing some more.

I love it.

I was writing on Friday or Saturday, and the words were coming easily. (That right there should have been a warning sign, shouldn't it?) I wrote most of a scene, and while I'm not going to say it was poetic or lyrical--although it's fine with me if you do--but it was, you know, pretty good stuff. I was thinking about how to wind up the scene. I do the last-sentence-dramatic-moment too often, but it's still my favorite way to click onto the asterisk line and prepare for the new beginning each scene is.

And then...

I realized something wasn't quite right. I wouldn't be able to wind up the scene

because even though I enjoyed reading it, my people were leaping out of character so fast and so often they looked like those fish that jump up out of the water if you throw in a handful of Cheetos. It's as if a scene from another book was dropped in and the characters' names changed to match those of my people.

It stopped me cold. I gave myself the rest of the weekend away from the story. When I go back to it tomorrow morning (I'm writing this on Sunday night), I hope to find either (1) an easy fix, or (2) my muse came in and took care of the mess herself. I'm figuring on (3) a bunch of moaning and whining and word-tossing-out and maybe a cuss word or two.

How do you think it will go? And, more to the point, have you ever done this? If you have, how did you get yourself out of it?