At the beginning of my first, really rough, everything-will-probably-change-by-the-end draft of the new book, I find myself typing things. Like:
I hope he too knows regret–and worse than regret, before this is through.
Okay, I guess I was hoping, too, because none of what was going to happen had happened yet, and so I was still really, really stupid.
Regret over what?
What things that are going to happen but haven’t yet?
If I want to find out, I have to keep writing.
And if all the terrible, regret-inducing things don’t materialize, and other plot moving things happen instead? In that case, both these lines will just go away in the next draft, and no one but us will know they were ever there. (You won’t tell, will you?)