I’ve hammermed ‘dystopian’ today. Taking wee breaks where I needed to and then returning to it. It’s really taking shape now. I’ve had two passes, looking for what was missing and today has been spent merging it all together.
I’m quite looking forward to getting started on this next week.
Okay, it’ll still be daunting to think, “shit, I have to somehow wring fifty thousand words out of this piffle.” But I’ve learned not to think that way.
It’s a decent enough idea, with several wee stylistic flouishes I’m fairly proud of. The central characters are strong and the plot has more convolutions than a politician on question time.
There’s always that fear before I start that I’m a crap storyteller, that the bubble has burst, my muse has fled.
(And if anyone knows how I can obtain one of the muses from “almost famous” – a little closer to my age and without the blow-jobs – I’d be delighted to hear from you!)
But my muse’ll be there for me – she always is.
My mate rang up today to arrange a spot of getting bunnied on bath salts next week and I had to turn him down.
I’m not going to have the time while this novel’s hanging out of me like a homesick miscarriage – THAT’S how seriously I take my muse and what she squeezes out of me!