It's been raining ever since. Mainly in my heart.
I need to get a grip. This novel's in danger of expiring faster than the bottle of milk I bought in Lidl last week. I think it's because I've reached the point in the story where I literally have no idea what happens next, and I'm basically treading water until somebody tells me. Let's face it, chapter eleven was only written because a patient asked me last week what an orthoptist is. I need to meet someone inspirational. Not spend three days in Burgess Hill.
But I need to crack on, regardless. I've got to stop spending my lunch breaks e-mailing pointless jokes to numerous people. There's only one place for pointless jokes, and that's my novel. It's already 8pm, but I'm not going to bed tonight until I've written chapter fourteen. It could be a long night...
Or a short chapter. My money's on the latter.
5 comments:
You'll have to advertise it as a competition to see who can complete the novel - or doesn't that count?
It's ok, I've had a major epiphany over my early morning cup of tea, and come up with a fundamental plot twist which is likely to transform this novel from tired pulp fiction to Booker-winning work of genius. I can't wait to get to work and start writing. Er, I mean get to work, DO some work, and then write in my lunch break.
I was going toi give you some ideas (mainly involving aliens, pirates and buried treasure) but I won't bother now.
I like that photo, truly amazing and beautiful what happens before I wake up. Isn't a picture worth a thousand words? Got anymore film/memorycard space?
(Or have you used that line already. In which case its Dave's Norfolk alien pirates for you. My Dad saw a spaceship off just Cromer, so perhaps that storyline is a bit too close to fact for a novel. Hmm. Think I'll stop right now.)
'Just Cromer' is along the coast to the east of 'Unjust Cromer'. For those who are about to make that obvious comment. Look, its not me who thinks he can write!
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