At just under 300 pages, I keep asking myself: “How much longer until I finish out the rough draft of this damnable novel?” I’m convinced that every would-be novelist hits this point sooner or later. Especially if s/he is working a full time job to pick up what non-publication leaves behind.
I’m convinced that it’s as simple as my battery being drained at the end-ish of the day. While writing is not the end-all-be-all of my job, it’s a pretty big component of it. And especially recently, where I had some heavy-lifting to do at the keyboard. That’s it right there then? I suppose that I must assume so. The holiday season takes a lot out of a person and seems to have its own hang-over that stretches through to the end of January, for the most part. Add a layer of intense work stuff as the powdered sugar on top of your already icinged cake and I think that about sums it up.
The spiral notebook comes with me pretty much everywhere that I go. I’m never more than an arm’s length away from jotting down the next phrase or paragraph to spark off the beginning or close to a chapter. That’s a lesson I learned a long time ago. Just the same, the material hides sometimes. I’ve given up on the romantic idea that authors just sit down and pour out words onto paper. The existence of creative writing classes, books on “how to”, and lectures by Arthur Golden where he basically admits that Geisha took 7+ drafts and a whole lot of support from family and friends.
Not that I ever thought that writing took place in a vacuum.
So to anyone that was counting on me to have a first draft ready for shredding by the end of January: I’m sorry about that. I haven’t given up. I just need a few more days.