I’ve been meaning to update this blog for days, if not
weeks, and I’ve made several attempts, but each time I write something I think,
‘This is so boring. Why should anyone
want to know about the progress of my novel?’ I keep looking for something
topical to bring the subject alive and make it more relevant. Nothing, however,
has materialised, so you’ll just have to make do with the bones. Which are as
follows.
A few weeks ago, as you may remember if you’ve been paying
attention, I completed the first full draft of the novel – ie, as far as I knew
I had everything there and everything in the right place. It had taken me three
years (on and off) to get to that stage and I felt as if I’d reached some sort of watershed.
I knew however that several of the chapters could do with
rewriting and I knew there was lots of editing to be done plus pruning in some
places and expansion in others. So I set to immediately, excited by the thought
of all the fame and money that awaited me when my masterpiece was published,
not to mention the joy of having someone else actually read the darn thing and
hear what I have to say.
Disaster. The more I worked on the book the more confused I
got. I changed one bit and all the rest fell apart. I seemed to have lost the
plot – literally.
So I took the only course open to me. I abandoned it. What was probably happening, I thought, was that I needed time to detach myself from the book so that I could come
back to it and see it dispassionately.
I’ve given myself three months. It may
take longer than that, but I’ll see how I feel.
I do miss it though.