Done and dusted...almost

Well - I've finished it!

My latest masterpiece (ahem!), tentatively entitled Crystallise, which weighs in at a hefty 118,000 words (give or take a couple of hundred).

I've already started on the rewriting (and planning my next novel) so hopefully in a couple of months it should be ready for me to send off to literary agents and publishers.

Then I can just sit back and let my self-belief and confidence get eroded away by the constant stream of rejection letters.

Ah, the joy of writing!

It's been a while!

Haven't entered anything to this blog in a dog's age. Largely because there's no one reading it, and also because I'm very, very lazy.
Since my last entry I've gone past 100,000 words!
The end is creeping closer - or at least the end of the beginning is getting closer. There's still the whole ghastly business of the proof-reading and the rewrites to go through.
My plan is that once I finish, I'll take a month off and use that time to start planning out the next story in my list. Or doing some short stories. Depends how I feel. Then, once the month is over and I've put some distance between myself and the story, I'll start on the fixing.

I've found that as you write a story, become involved in it, wrapped up in it, you get too caught up in it. To use a nice, trite cliche, you can't see the wood for the trees. It's important to step back once in a while, try and get some perspective on things. Plus, if you don't take a break you can get thoroughly sick of the story and the characters you're writing about.
I do anyway. Perhaps I'm just strange.

Who's the daddy?

Get in - ninety thousand words!
Put out the bunting, ring the church bells and bring on the dancing girls!

Do I win a prize?

Back in the saddle

At last, after about two weeks, I've finally returned to the novel - passed the 89,000 word mark today!
Anyone who writes and uses word processing software will probably have developed the same obsession I have with the word count. It takes on an importance out of all proportion to its actual usefulness. It becomes a game, picking a figure and trying to get past it. Like today, I made myself get past 89,000 before I could go and get come lunch.
And I keep checking the count every few minutes.
When you get past a major milestone, like say the upcoming 90,000 word mark, you find yourself punching the air in celebration and whooping like a deranged gibbon. At least, I do. Possibly it might be the result of some sort of chemical imbalance. Or maybe I just don't get out often enough.
I so need to find myself a life...
Maybe when I've finished this novel. If only there wasn't another dozen or so queued up right behind it. Should keep me going for the next twenty years or so!
Not to mention the rewrites I'll need to do - this is meant to be a hobby but it's ended up being harder work than my job!

Getting nowhere fast...

From a writing point of view, in the last two weeks I have achieved
almost nothing.
True, I've moved house and started a new job, but I even bearing that
in mind my activity has been minimal. The PlayStation hasn't been
unpacked and there's no internet connection to distract me so you'd
think that it would be the ideal time to get some writing done, to get
stuck into the final stretch of my current novel.
But no, there's been nothing, nada, zero, zip.
My motivation is seriously flagging.
And I miss my sofa, and my bed (they're still in my previous house),
and the internet. Only posting this via a sneaky email from work!

Just a little further...

88,000 words (well, near as dammit) - getting slowly closer. Did a bit more at work today. Whoever invented USB microdrives was a genius - perfect for the would be writer on the move who wants to take the novel he or she is working on with them!
Admittedly, I really should have been working, but what the hell, I'm leaving in a week!
Finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on the business of writing this novel. As well as the distractions of the telly, the PlayStation and the pub, I find I am becoming increasingly distracted by new ideas that keep ocurring to me.
For well over a year I've been working on the same novel. I'm tired of it, I want to finish and move on to something else. So when another idea occurs to me, one that is fresh and exciting and full of interesting new characters instead of the same ones I've been living with for however long it is (the ones I'm now heartily bored of), it is incredibly hard not to start working on this new story.
It's sooooo tempting, but I must resist! Then I can finish this story and begin the whole process again (ignoring the small matter of the essential rewrite of the first draft).
Speaking of new ideas, had a bizarre one the other day. Sci-fi or fantasy (with a smidge of horror perhaps) is my usual type of thing, so when the idea for a script for a romantic comedy occurred to me it came as quite a surprise. I may even write it one day, not that I have the faintest idea how to write a script, but what the hell...

Finding the time

Well, the double espresso finally wore off, but I still didn't manage to get any writing done until today. Flat hunting and going out (and generally avoiding getting my stuff organised) has taken up far too much of my time lately.
Still, I have at last managed to put fingers to keyboard and knock out another thousand words this afternoon (again, should really have been trying to sort my way through three and a half years of collected detritus - oh well). It wasn't great though - felt as if I was having to force it out instead of it just coming naturally. Never feels as good when it's like that, and I don't think it reads as well.
I think anyone who's tried to write will recognise the feeling. You know what you want to say, but you have to push and pull at each sentence. It can be very frustrating! And the forced nature of the writing comes across when you read it.
When it feels right, and it just seems to flow out of you, there's a more natural feel to the text. The sentences seem to fit together better and it's easier to access the world that you're writing/reading about.
Still, although I've had more enjoyable writing sessions, I'm reasonably pleased with the progress I've made.
I'm less overjoyed about the fact that I've decided that although I like the story I'm writing, I hate the way I've structured it. The first section is just one long blast of scene-setting and exposition which will bore the crap out of anyone unfortunate enough to read it. So, when I finally finish this first draft, I think I'm going to completely rewrite the start and try and work some of the scene-setting bits into other parts of the story (cue cliched flashback and overlong explanations that feel totally out of place). Not looking forward to that!
On the plus side, I think I've found a great flat. Expensive, but great. A nice balcony looking out over Sheffield city centre (and the busy ringroad, but we'll ignore that) and laminate flooring as far as the human eye can see.