I love it when this happens.
It started out with a short, funny, story about a seance, written by a very talented bloke at my writer’s group.
“I’ve never written a story about a seance,” I thought. Then I started thinking “What if…” and before I knew what had happened, I had a 2,000 word short which I was quite proud of. Except there was something not quite right with it.
It’s the guy in the middle. I know him. Hang on – I had an idea about a guy just like him a while ago. I wonder what would happen if I added this bit to the end….
Oh – it needs a second chapter. Well, why don’t I introduce – nah, that can’t be right, surely.
Two days later. Two days with no music playing during my one-hour each way commute.
The ideas come thick and fast, suggesting possibilities almost too big to grasp. So, I start to take notes of the things popping into my head. The note pile grows ridiculously, so I attempt to put them in some kind of order, to make sense of what the universe is dropping in my lap.
And there it is – sitting in my writing folder. A two thousand word short, two thousand words of background, and a five thousand word scene by scene breakdown of the novel.
And it hasn’t stopped yet – I know that there’s a second book and I even know what the bugger is called.
But I need to stop – I need to get some coherence before I pick up my one and a half chapters again. I also need to get some emotional distance from one of the characters, because right now my every thought is circling around her drama.
Sometimes I love/hate being a writer.
Â
p.s. I cried at my own ending. How pathetic is that?
Leave a Comment