Sunday, January 17, 2010
That is all.
Okay, that's not entirely true. I am a mess of self-doubt. I am re-reading this story, this novel, this manuscript and I'm thinking it is utter crap. I'm prepared to chuck it in the bin and walk away, forgetting that I ever entertained the idea that I could write a story.
I'm sick of the story, fed up with the characters and unsure of the narration. Should it be first person? Is there really a story there? Is there too much in the beginning and not enough in the second part? Wrap things up or leave them hanging? Do I give enough description? Is the writing too simple, not literary enough? What if I've just wasted all this time telling the wrong story, using these characters the wrong way?
I put the pages down and do something else. Play cards with Sophia, watch British murder mysteries with MathMan and Chloe. Goof around with Nathan. Pet a cat and stare out the window.
I think about the novels I'm reading lately. What is it that I like? What don't I like? How do their characters develop enough so that the reader cares what happens to them? And don't even get me started about genre. I haven't a clue where this story will fit.
Considering all that's wrong with the world (and, by the way, I'm heartened to see the good that disasters like Haiti bring out in people), all of this is incredibly petty, meaningless stuff. But it's my stuff and hopefully it will unlock a different kind of future for me and my family and so I press on even when all I'd rather do is read a book without analyzing it or catch another old film on TMC.
I'm about 90 pages from done with my read-through edits, so it's back to it. There is likely a bit more writing to do.
Be well and be good to each other and yourselves....