I'm exhausted.
Finished the editing and sent it back, by the way, but that's nothing to do with it.
No, the exhaustion is from the next idea(s). Stardawn is a kind of standby progression because holy hell, that's going to be a saga and a half. I'll be lucky if I don't end up with a character for every letter of the alphabet. Likewise, Substance Dualism is a slow-go area because that is one of those things that I will be still writing and adding to when I'm ninety and decrepit (?) and in a nursing home with a pretty attendant feeding me apricot yoghurt.
Yeah, I know, we all have dreams.
But then there's Postscript.
Postscript is its new name. Originally, Postscript was Substance Dualism. Yes, confusing. Don't worry, it gets worse.
Postscript is a supernatural story...in which you see no supernatural creatures whatsoever. The ones alluded to aren't even particularly out-of-this-world. None of this sparkly vampire crap, cheers.
Ghosts. Ordinary, boring, cello-playing (not kidding) ghosts.
Nothing big about that.
And yet I managed to write, according to Nicky, the most powerfully emotional scene of my career to date, in Postscript.
Go figure.
Wednesday, 24 March 2010
Sunday, 14 March 2010
Pessimism
Okay. So I was told that if I do some basic editing on my book, I have a decent chance of being in for a contract for the sucker.
Well, hell, that's a very nice offer, and as the editing is phraseology and grammer, I'm totally okay with that.
But then...it's editing.
Ever gone through 150+ pages of fiction, that you slammed out inside of three months, and edited out words like 'had', 'was' and the dreaded 'as connector'?
It's a living HELL.
Not only am I now firmly convinced that my writing is shoddy and there's no way that they'll take it on even though the editing will be complete, but my eyes are falling out of my head from staring at the screen so long, and my pizza-and-pop diet is going to give me heart failure before I ever find out if I get the contract.
This, kids, is why writing is not a sensible career choice.
Never mind that I am also a university student. I have a dual degree flowing here. And my seminar tutor doesn't accept any of this 'it's only first year' stuff either. I have British politics to analyse (in light of the political economy since 1945) by tomorrow.
I now realise why so few people make it as authors. By the time they get anything, they're in a mental asylum and the government takes the cheque for them.
Be smart. Do a business management degree and work for a consulting firm for the rest of your existence.
Well, hell, that's a very nice offer, and as the editing is phraseology and grammer, I'm totally okay with that.
But then...it's editing.
Ever gone through 150+ pages of fiction, that you slammed out inside of three months, and edited out words like 'had', 'was' and the dreaded 'as connector'?
It's a living HELL.
Not only am I now firmly convinced that my writing is shoddy and there's no way that they'll take it on even though the editing will be complete, but my eyes are falling out of my head from staring at the screen so long, and my pizza-and-pop diet is going to give me heart failure before I ever find out if I get the contract.
This, kids, is why writing is not a sensible career choice.
Never mind that I am also a university student. I have a dual degree flowing here. And my seminar tutor doesn't accept any of this 'it's only first year' stuff either. I have British politics to analyse (in light of the political economy since 1945) by tomorrow.
I now realise why so few people make it as authors. By the time they get anything, they're in a mental asylum and the government takes the cheque for them.
Be smart. Do a business management degree and work for a consulting firm for the rest of your existence.
Monday, 8 March 2010
Terms and Conditions
Well, here we go.
The reason I have constructed a blog? So I can outpour to the unseeing world that which my friends get ticked off with me for outpouring. Any of you know any writers in real life? Yeah, we're annoying little sods, aren't we?
Anyway, this is basically so I can ramble, at length, about what's going on in the constructions and destructions of my original fiction. If you want to stalk it, be my guest; hopefully, you'll eventually be paying my internet bills. Or food. Whichever's more important.
What you can do? Whatever the hell you like, more or less. You want to ignore me, that's dandy. You want to comment? That's dandy too. You want to read at length about what my mind is creating out here in the wilderness that is "t'Nort'"? You're quite mad. But welcome: so am I.
What I write has little to no continuity. I bounce from project to project most of the time. Most of the constructions here will be character designs, as I find these the most challenging to do without outpouring to someone and, quite frankly, I think my flatmates are on the verge of strangling me to get me to shut up.
As, by now, are you. Most likely.
Any work feedback appreciated. Any validation of my existence also appreciated, but I'm not a dualist, so I can't doubt I exist in the first place.
Have fun with that one, folks.
The reason I have constructed a blog? So I can outpour to the unseeing world that which my friends get ticked off with me for outpouring. Any of you know any writers in real life? Yeah, we're annoying little sods, aren't we?
Anyway, this is basically so I can ramble, at length, about what's going on in the constructions and destructions of my original fiction. If you want to stalk it, be my guest; hopefully, you'll eventually be paying my internet bills. Or food. Whichever's more important.
What you can do? Whatever the hell you like, more or less. You want to ignore me, that's dandy. You want to comment? That's dandy too. You want to read at length about what my mind is creating out here in the wilderness that is "t'Nort'"? You're quite mad. But welcome: so am I.
What I write has little to no continuity. I bounce from project to project most of the time. Most of the constructions here will be character designs, as I find these the most challenging to do without outpouring to someone and, quite frankly, I think my flatmates are on the verge of strangling me to get me to shut up.
As, by now, are you. Most likely.
Any work feedback appreciated. Any validation of my existence also appreciated, but I'm not a dualist, so I can't doubt I exist in the first place.
Have fun with that one, folks.
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