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Sunday 25 Nano-vember
2001
I think I may have abandoned my novel.
30 thousand words down the track and I am pretty sure I have
got to a point (that point being five days left and 20 thousand
words to go) where I don't have enough time to get it done.
I have been beating myself up about it
for a few days ("I'm such a drop out! I can't see anything
through!") and telling myself and anyone else who is
listening that I am definitely going to get it done, all the
while hearing a little sarcastic voice in the back of my head
saying "yeah - right". I have written a lot - a
lot of terrible, awful waffle, and it made me realise that
a handful of characters and no plot ideas at all (except something
loosely to do with circuses) does not make for an entertaining
experience at all. In fact - it's incredibly boring. I am
sure that I could pull off a momentous effort and write 4
thousand words each day for the next week (and hey, Enid Blyton
could write 12 000 a day, so 4 000 is next to nothing) but
I have to put my folio together and on Tuesday attend that
three hour info session for the course
I applied for, plus I have to do some roughs for a publisher
sometime this week, so time is the issue. I had planned (loosely)
to write all weekend. Instead I discovered the time-suckage
joys of Civilization III yesterday, and then spent today eating
yum cha and walking around Melbourne's interesting yet somewhat
shabby Chinese
Museum with Big-P and Dr Beard. This afternoon I curled
up in bed with a good book,
a cup of tea and my hot-water bottle. And it was so nice -
someone else had to do all the hard work, figure out all the
plot twists and make the characters real and interesting with
unexpected character traits that still somehow make sense
-- and I get to be lazy and just enjoy it, in bed on a stormy
looking Sunday.
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