The general theme of exhaustion has been something that carried through from earlier days, with the cumulative effect of only just making it to brunch before they stopped letting you in at 1pm. Yes, I’m lazy and all that. On to the library where reading just two chapters of Barry Coward’s The Stuart Age took around three hours because of:
a) boredom and
b) the amount of quotes I was taking; because I didn’t want just the information relevant to my essay, also wanted to ensure I wouldn’t have to read those chapters again for lecture reading.
Fast forward a few hours and after pizza and a quick trip to the college bar with a friend, am now sitting in my room almost ready to start writing. As I’m feeling a little bit more relaxed than I have been in the last few days I’m going to try something different and write the scene on the computer first time round rather than handwriting. The handwriting is slowing down my progress to the point where it is starting to become frustrating, as I am so desperate to start reworking the story and developing character arcs in the first half, so here goes nothing!
One of the major problems I have with writing on the computer is that the Internet becomes incredibly tempting. See Milhouse above. Imagine my novel is Lisa and the Internet is Milhouse. Hear me out please. She knows that he is no good for her yet she continues to talk to him, to engage with him and almost to encourage him.
It’s two and a half hours later and I haven’t spent that much time on writing, falling into the endless internet trap but surprisingly — because of the insanity of touch typing – something has still been achieved. That is what is different to writing by hand, you can still engage with the world that you are creating without having to wait for your fingers to catch up.
So? At the end of the day I have a 119 word outline of the chapter, including a note for something that needs to be altered in the second draft for the whole thing to make sense — which I hadn’t even noticed now, even though it was pretty obvious. A entire chapter of the book rests on the main character having a phobia of an everyday (well, sorta) situation… But she wouldn’t have this phobia without something happening to trigger it, ergo another scene needs to be added. Sometimes I wonder why these changes, in the case of this novel, are coming to me so quickly and while I am still in the course of writing whereas for Girl With A Thousand Faces editing was like pulling teeth.
I also tonight gained four hundred and fifty two words of actual prose, including one of the lines that – once edited – I think is going to be quite simply one of the most beautiful in the entire novel. Although it will probably end up being one of those ‘kill your darlings’ moments and have to go, but I hope not.
Listening to a Belgian choir, typing this post at the end of a day that was quite lethargic until the brief meeting with a friend, is quite hopeful. I know where my novel is going also, at least until the dreaded halfway point where I have to decide exactly what kind of writer I am. Because what I am planning would break the main character and put her back together again as some muddled jigsaw of herself as she stood before, so we will have to see if I am that cruel.