Some progress at last
I finally, finally, finally seem to be making some progress on my novel. After what seems a long time of false starts, long fallow periods, going up blind alleys, I now seem to be on the right track.
Famous last words probably.
The impetus has come really from going to the York Festival of Writing which I went to a couple of weekends ago. I deliberated for a long time about whether to go or not – could I justify the money, it involved lots of complicated childcare arrangements, but in the end I registered and paid. No going back. I entered the Best Opening Chapter competition just before it closed (and made it to the final seven, which was brilliantly encouraging.) Having to pitch your book to agents face to face against the clock was nerve jangling but taught me so much.
The weekend was packed with things – so many things I’m still processing them – but I had several light bulb moments – a workshop on backstory, one on dialogue, and one on psychic distance stand out. What was best was meeting so many like minded people – I had so many conversations with writers grappling with the same things, the same insecurities and challenges of time and juggling other commitments, but all consumed by writing and loving it. I couldn’t wait to get back and get on with it. Having people now actually wanting to see it is giving me that real impetus not to squander my chance.
Since then, I have been editing relentlessly – getting up earlier, going to bed later, snatching moments from here, there and everywhere. I have rewritten huge swathes of dialogue, altered timelines, chopped up backstory and threaded it through instead.
I read masses over the Summer and rearranged my bookshelves (I blame Marie Kondo) and will do a little recap in the next post as to what I enjoyed but I’m finding other people’s novels are unduly influencing what I’m writing. Especially the brilliant Margaret Atwood. And the BBC adaptation of The Go Between to be shown this Sunday has just destroyed a whole section of my plot.