It's basically a formless...um, blob...that just eats and destroys things. Have you even seen the movie? It's kind of hilariously bad, and the whole premise is just, well...Giant, oozing Blob terrorizes small town!
There's a point in my drafting process when I realize my darling WiP is The Blob.
Around 30,000 words or so, I'm far enough in where subplots are happening and I'm trying to keep things interesting and usually, I'm still trying to figure out what's going on. So I throw stuff in there to see what happens. Or I jump around and write scenes out of order. Or I have a completely new idea for a plot twist and I start writing in that direction.
Right now, my draft is not a cohesive story. It's bits and pieces hemmed together and broken apart. It's messy, formless, and growing.
My draft is the FREAKING BLOB.
And you know what? That's okay. It might be a huge glob of mush that sometimes terrorizes my brain, but eventually it will start to take shape. Even now, when it moves just right, I can almost see what it will look like later on. It makes me love it even though it's hideous right now, and makes me feed it even though sometimes I just want to spray it with a fire extinguisher and freeze it (uh, movie reference).
But it's those sparkling moments of glory when you can see what your draft is supposed to be that make you keep going, keep pushing through the Ugly. One day it will be a shiny, gorgeous piece of art, and you'll love it even more knowing that you made it pretty when it used to look like this:
My first WiP pretty much had a cohesive plot the entire way through. It needed a lot of restructuring, but it was still a story with a beginning, middle, and end. But this draft? Not so much. Funny how different books can have such drastically different processes.