Mr. Lacer’s sometimes slightly dubious taste in TV should, in theory, be doing wonders for my writing, because when it’s on, it sends me, with no alternative, running to my bedroom, which is where I am now and have been for nearly the past hour, have I worked on my work in progress? No, I haven’t worked on it for about three weeks now and consequently I’ve lost my flow, bah humbug holidays.
But back to tonight, when I could have been working, I had literally nothing else to do, I know that because I spent 27 minutes trawling the internet just to check, I didn’t work, in part because a three week break is not good for any work in progress, whatever stage, but also more specifically, I am about half to two thirds of the way through, I know exactly how the story is going to end, I know all the steps I have to go through to get there, it’s just a case of sitting there, writing the words down and right now that doesn’t feel exactly fun. Plus, because the end is so clearly in sight now, I find myself thinking more and more about what is going to happen next . . . editing and it fills me a mixture of about two parts dread to one part excitement, so the dread is overwhelming the excitement at the moment. The dread is because I know that the edit is going to be hard, I know that I have to look at every single word and judge whether it deserves to be there or not, whether every sentence works, whether each paragraph says what I want it to say, whether that scene should even be in there and I know it’s going to be hard work. I am already aware that there are some quite significant flaws in the work and although I call it editing, it really is a second draft I’m doing here, how I see it hopefully happening is that the majority of the correction (at least by me, if it ever does get published and goes into the hands of a proper editor I know that’ll be hard work to) will be done in the second draft alongside some possible additional scenes and some fleshing out of characters and plot lines. When I complete that and after I’ve given it a rest, I will then re read again, concentrating more on spotting any mistakes I might have missed in the second draft, making sure the new scenes work and most importantly making sure the story flows cohesively. Whilst I am doing that, in probably short half an hour bursts (because I know from experience when I try and edit something that half an hour is all I can take before I start missing things), I will start my next project, that’s where the excitement comes in, there are quite a few ideas for that jostling for my attention, with a couple of key contenders.
But like I say, nothing was happening tonight, I don’t know what I do, I know what I should do, stop procrastinating and force myself to open that Word .doc and get on with it, none of that editing stage I keep thinking about is going to happen if I don’t finish the first draft. So there’s my dilemma, force myself, whilst it’s only a three week gap, it’s not that bad, compared to my other alternative, wait until Boy Lacer starts nursery, 21 September, now that’s a lot of weeks gap and I might as well chuck my ‘script out the window.
I have made myself do some writing tonight though, I think part of my problem is that I’m itching to do something fresh, so I played with the writing prompt generator on Writer’s Cafe, being strict with myself I settled for the first prompt it gave me and came up with this in the designated 15 minutes it gave me. I should warn ahead of this, is that if I’m anything I’m a children’s writer but the prompt I was given was screaming adult fiction at me, so I went with it, probably not very well (and to cover my back even more, it’s not even in my normal ‘style’).
Character 1: Bruno Spangler
Character 2: Dion Rhone
Setting: Trapped in a locked room
Goal: To rescue a child
“She’s done it this time,” Dion kicked off her high heels, sending them thumping against the locked door.
“Dad will stop her.”
“Yeah like hell he will, darling Gloria can do no wrong. To steal a child, on today of all days.”
“You sound like you’re more fussed about the fact that she did it on your wedding day.”
Dion picked up her shoe and threw it against the door again for emphasis, “You know you could be a man Bruno and try and force the door down.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing personal against you Dion, this was the first chance Gloria had to see Leonor.”
“She’s unhinged, that’s what she is, I shouldn’t have invited her, but oh no Dad insisted, mustn’t hurt poor ickle wickle Gloria’s feelings should we? And now she’s run off with my bridesmaid. The door Bruno”
Bruno reluctantly got up from the bed and shambled to the back of the small hotel room, not much of a run up he thought, he was going to do his shoulder in again. One last look at Dion, no, she wasn’t going to sit there quietly, he had to do it, Bruno took a run for the door. Just as his shoulder, injured in a football accident five years previously, made its painful contact with the cheap wood, the door was pulled open, sending Bruno sprawling into the ornamental display of plastic flowers outside.