Continuing with this book’s a bit of a struggle at the moment; every time I sit down to persevere with it I feel like I'm wading through jam – I can never really get going. When I started it I was flying through it, paragraphs, pages, chapters flew out of my fingers like some kind of hyperactive marmite, but now I can’t seem to get anywhere. Enough of the condimental similes, they don’t really work.
I also feel as though the plot has hit a bit of an impasse – I’m really having problems trying to push the narrative on. I know what’s going to happen in the next section, but I can’t seem to get to a place where I can get the action going. The bridging sections I am finding hard to cross, which is especially problematic at the moment, considering my method of working has changed recently from flawless chronological action to writing little sketches and skits, which are all very good but at some point I’m going to have to sew them together and make them relevant. I guess this is the art of the novelist. I march slowly on.
And march on I must – Rich Fee emailed me last week telling me all about his mate, only a couple of years older than me, who has sold the film rights to his novel, Child 44, to bloody Ridley Scott. I can’t see old Ridders making an epic about two lads in the South West of England chatting up loads of birds and spiralling out of control, but I don’t know – maybe someone else. Jerry Bruckheimer? Something to aspire to anyway.
I met someone on Friday night who has also been scribbling (typing?) away on a novel, and who has written 90,000 words! (I think she said 90,000 anyway, I was on my way to boozetown). It was an impressive amount anyway. So now I feel inadequate, and my 12,000 words stands up as nothing but an extended essay. I feel a renewed push is needed, and once I get the ball (point) rolling again properly, I should hopefully be rocking and rolling in no time. (That play on words would have worked if I was actually hand-writing the thing, but I’m not. Thought it was too good to let slip though)
Wish me luck.
4 comments:
Good luck dude, although I tried to write more of my novel this weekend and managed 1500 words and passed it off as a chapter, I couldn't get back in the vibe. I'm sure you'll be fine, it's just me, I get lazy.
I like your jam simile.
is that a euphemism?
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