It's five hundred and seventy eight different kinds of wrong. I get really into my groove, right? The story is flowing, gliding, slipping from my fingertips onto the page with the aid of the keyboard, a ratatat-tippity-tat of glee. The dialogue comes naturally, the plot shifts simply exquisite. Transitions slip and slide from one paragraph to the next like they are dancing on ice. I'm in THE ZONE. Then I take a break to regroup and it happens.
At first, it looks sweet and unassuming. It's cute. An idea. A lovely idea. A seductively simple idea. Hmm... a change of pace might be healthy.
But wait... this idea may be brilliant! I could build from clever item A, shift into clever item B, and culminate with spectacularly glorious item C!
Yes!!! Yes, this is brilliant!!! Yes, to heck with the-more-important-project-that-was-going-so-well. No, never mind that! It's all about THIS little plot that just came to me!
The problem, of course, as all writers know, is that these little side-trips are momentum killers and dream-suckers. They end up sputtering. They are subconscious methods of self-sabotage. Plot bunnies are actually the reason I began, a few years ago, keeping a PLOT BOOK. I scrawl them down and put them inside, then put the book under something large and heavy to keep them from escaping. Because they may seem cute... but eventually all the brain children I work so hard to create recognize them for their true selves. Like Mall Santas, they are cloaked in the clothing of magical fairy tales... but you can smell the Jack Daniels when you're on the sweaty lap.
Begone, evil one. I banish you!
STOP TORMENTING MY BRAIN CHILDREN, EVIL PLOT BUNNY!