Written in the ether

What I’m calling the ‘4^th draft’ of The Novel is proceeding apace. (It’s difficult to separate drafts out sometimes as novel-writing (for me) is a constant process of refinement.) Having sorted out a plot impasse thanks to the helpful criticism of the YouWriteOn reviewers, all the little scenes which had no home are now falling into place.

It always seems to me that a novel is written in its entirety in the ether somewhere and my job is simply to pull it down. Scenes arrive in my head, stop at a certain point however much I want them to go on, and refuse to be slotted in where I think they ought to go. Then, some time later, they find their destination – and their shape now makes perfect sense.

If I could listen to my instincts at an earlier stage then I might not have to wade through so many drafts, and I might get my novels finished a bit more quickly. (The last one took five years, on and off. I’ve been working on this one for two and a half so far - on and off.)

My only worry is that the novel won’t be long enough. As I’ve said before (possibly here, possibly somewhere else – I can’t remember), most novels these days are at least 100,000 words, whereas in the past 50,000 was more normal. (Yes, I count words, roughly.) So far I’m up to 20,000 and I have the sense that I’m a third to a quarter of the way through. But I could be wrong.

Oh, and another worry is my neck, which is aching. I've adjusted my screen position and Frog is putting together a new office chair for me from bits of old ones. I hope those adjustments help as I don't want to be laid up (as I have been in the past).

(And, as you may have noticed, I've not cured my addiction to brackets.)