Sucking on a lemon

Day 5 of (possibly) 90 and I’m sat hunched over a steaming laptop with my fingers bleeding into the keyboard.

No word count this time, no strict deadline, no peer pressure (other than self inflicted) and no prize at the end of it – unless you count a reasonably readable novel as ‘a prize’.

bugger – i said it again… its not a ‘book’, its a fictional document. Thats what it is. Books are works of literary genius, printed, bound, barcoded and on sale in Waterstones. Mine? Mine is not that. Its practice, its a place to play and experiment and discover if, given enough time, one 36 yr old monkey in a room can eventually bash out a reasonable tune on a qwerty xylophone with a rubber mallet.

If ‘genius’ looks like a car crash, then I might be in with a chance.

Whats been happening for 5 days? Well a lot of timelining, figuring out characters, ripping thoughts apart and wondering how to glue them back together again. The biggest u-turn taken, compared to the previous efforts, is the attempt at writing in the first person. Maybe it was reading Catcher in the Rye, maybe it was reading ‘Money’, maybe it was an attempt at forcing me to be more descriptive instead of crushing a bag of pringles over my screen and telling people its ‘dialogue’.

So yeah, I’ve planned enough to get me going – and its been a strangely enjoyable process.

Not one I’m used to at all.


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