The hardest part - pinning things down

I think the hardest part of a novel for me is pinning things down, and keeping them pinned down. I watched my cat Emer the other day. She pounced on the feather toy, but a little wriggle from me made the string look more enticing, so out went her paws in rapid succession. The string was tired down, leaving the feather free to be whipped away. What she thought was solid (her hold on the prize) was an illusion, and it was wasn't hard to totally exhaust her, especially by letting her capture the fleeting sense that she has accomplished something.

This is how the writing process goes for me. It isn't really a question of beginnings, middles and ends, although I do think the middles are the hardest for me. It's more like seeing shadows of the project come and go through the mist of other choices, other possibilities, consequences, and scenes played out by the actors in my head, with camera angles and directorial instructions shouted out in a whisper. At times, I am surrounded by characters, each arguing or begging for a part in the opus. It is hard to tell who to listen to, and when. An "excess of imagination" seems such a neutral term for it. I'm still getting used to the problem that each choice narrows some paths and widens others, and you don't have a breadcrumb path to help in choosing which way to go. Many paths work, but they lead to different stories.

So, like a channel surfer with cable, I get flashes of beginnings, scenes, cliffhangers, "feel good endings" and deep conversations, often from several projects simultaneously, while I try to figure out what to wrestle into the current novel.

Sound familiar, or am I the only one?