Why do I do this? I have just wasted all morning dickering around, finding things to do that keep me from writing my novel. Now I have decided to do this, why? It isnt that I don't want to write, don't enjoy writing, doubt that I can write it, so why have I washed up, visited numerous time wasting websites, answered emails that can wait, phoned my mother, rearranged the china cupboard? I have everything I need to get on with part three. The research all neatly catalogued, coffee steaming at my elbow, even the word doc is open, the curser flashing. Yet i am here instead, talking to you who probably aren't listening anyway.
I think I need an overseer, someone to apply the whip everytime my mind strays ...ooh no, perhaps not, that might sting. I wake up in the middle of the night (husband sneezing again) and the plot comes alive in my head. I know exactly what the characters will do, how they will do it and why. I am eager to get it down, so eager I can barely sleep, yet morning comes and all that enthusiasm has dwindled away.
I am almost at the end of writing the section narrated by Alys, it took sometime to get her voice right in my head but I have her nailed now. Another few pages and I can move on to Leo's narrative; a more dramatic section than Alys'. I should be raring to go but instead, I feel quite fed up with the whole thing.
what I shall do now, is read through what I did last time, delete/change some probably, make notes on which bits need improving and then, hopefully, fingers crossed, write at least a few more pages. If I can just put Alys to bed I can have my fun with Leo.
No, don't give up on Alys. You just have to get on with it.
ReplyDeleteReport to me next Monday with finished section. Does that help?
goodness, i havent got to read the whole thing have i :D i did very well in the end, its just typing that first word. i did aboout 7 pages altogether yesterday so i dont know what the panic was about. self doubt i think :)
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