The Joys of Writing
Yesterday I made the decision to stop working on the novel I had been editing for the last five months.
This was to be my next baby I was to ship to publishers and agents, hoping for that big contract. I had written the first draft a few years ago, and put it away afterwards to concentrate on getting The Mother up to scratch to send off.
So, earlier in the year, not long after I had received the call to say The Mother had been accepted for publication, I dove straight into editing this new story - working title The Save.
It was going along so well. I was happy with the changes I had made, I was close to half-way through the second draft...and then it happened.
Well, in truth, it had been on my mind for the last few weeks, but I (stupidly) tried to ignore them and I pushed on.
But they wouldn't go away. They grew. They became so big that I could no longer ignore them:Doubts.
Those horrible, annoying, frustrating little niggles in the back of your mind that warns you that something ain't right in Chinatown, Jake.
Most of the time these doubts are just the writing equivalent of cold feet on a wedding day. You think to yourself: is this good enough? Am I exploring every possible avenue with the story and characters? Writers are generally a paranoid, insecure bunch of people, so these doubts crop up fairly often.
Usually that's all they are - just paranoia.
But sometimes, they're more than that. Sometimes, it's your body's way of telling you to stop what you're doing, take a step back - this ain't working.
And that's what happened yesterday. I finally had to listen to those doubts and accept them for what they were - signs that the direction the novel was going in wasn't the right one.
I don't know what direction the novel will take; if I'll continue it at all. It may end up being a novella - who knows?
So what am I doing now? Well, thankfully I have another, close-to-completed first draft of a novel sitting waiting to be edited that I'm going to be working on instead.
It's a story I wrote a long time ago, after finishing The Last Motel. It's my favourite thing I've written. It'll be the longest and most ambitious work to date.
And it scares the hell out of me.
But I'm going to dive in and hope for the best.
Ahh...the joys of writing.
This was to be my next baby I was to ship to publishers and agents, hoping for that big contract. I had written the first draft a few years ago, and put it away afterwards to concentrate on getting The Mother up to scratch to send off.
So, earlier in the year, not long after I had received the call to say The Mother had been accepted for publication, I dove straight into editing this new story - working title The Save.
It was going along so well. I was happy with the changes I had made, I was close to half-way through the second draft...and then it happened.
Well, in truth, it had been on my mind for the last few weeks, but I (stupidly) tried to ignore them and I pushed on.
But they wouldn't go away. They grew. They became so big that I could no longer ignore them:Doubts.
Those horrible, annoying, frustrating little niggles in the back of your mind that warns you that something ain't right in Chinatown, Jake.
Most of the time these doubts are just the writing equivalent of cold feet on a wedding day. You think to yourself: is this good enough? Am I exploring every possible avenue with the story and characters? Writers are generally a paranoid, insecure bunch of people, so these doubts crop up fairly often.
Usually that's all they are - just paranoia.
But sometimes, they're more than that. Sometimes, it's your body's way of telling you to stop what you're doing, take a step back - this ain't working.
And that's what happened yesterday. I finally had to listen to those doubts and accept them for what they were - signs that the direction the novel was going in wasn't the right one.
I don't know what direction the novel will take; if I'll continue it at all. It may end up being a novella - who knows?
So what am I doing now? Well, thankfully I have another, close-to-completed first draft of a novel sitting waiting to be edited that I'm going to be working on instead.
It's a story I wrote a long time ago, after finishing The Last Motel. It's my favourite thing I've written. It'll be the longest and most ambitious work to date.
And it scares the hell out of me.
But I'm going to dive in and hope for the best.
Ahh...the joys of writing.
posted by BrettMcBean at 11:14 PM
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