Woke up dis mornin', got the second draft blues.
Woke up dis mornin', got the second draft blues.
Looked at my MS, wasn't nothin' but bemused.
It's as much fun as a bruise.
I would rather have a snooze.
Etc etc etc etc etc.
Progress is being made, but it's sooooooooo slooooooooooow and I'm very impatient which is a terrible combination. I'm pleased with my first draft; it's not bad, as first drafts go, but of course it still needs a hell of a lot of work. It takes me such a long time to really get to know a character; to fully understand their motivations; to distinguish their voice from the voices of the other characters and from the voice of the book. My lovely mentor Debi always tells me that 'marinating time' is essential. I know she's right, but it doesn't make me any more patient.
I also know about 'bite by bite eats the elephant' and all that. But there's a part of me that thinks, for goodness' sake, all I need are the right words in the right order. It's not so simple, though, is it?
Why did I want to be a writer anyway? Could someone please remind me?
Sunday, 6 February 2011
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