At this point, I feel like my novel has become one of those puzzles that is nothing but one color, or the same kind of texture (grass, hair, clouds, etc.) where there are so many possibilities for the pieces to fit together--sort of--but only one of them is the correct spot. I've moved a few more things around, and they feel even better in their new locations. Hopefully this is a good thing.
I've also been combining a few of the chapters, cutting out the boring parts and going for the throat instead. I'm really hoping this thing is much more emotionally engaging than the last draft, but really, who's to say if I've truly succeeded? It's going to be different for everyone. But I know that I feel drained after writing some of these things, like my emotions have sapped from my fingers and onto the page. Could be wishful thinking, but I suppose I'll find out soon enough.
As a side note: My cat has now been missing for a full 24 hours, and that is always disheartening. He's done this type of thing before and been gone for a little more than two days, so my wife and I are trying to keep the worries to a medium. Plus, this time around he has a collar with his name and my number, so I'm thinking SOMEONE would've called if something had gone wrong, right? Here's hoping...
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