This one’s slow…can’t seem to get enthused at all even though every time I read back through it’s all progressing fine but the apathy is strong with this one skywalker. Don’t know what’s going on, I’ve had moments with other books but this one is really hard going. I’m thinking I might put it aside and work on something else for a while. I did actually start it last July but got sidetracked by writing the last couple of books and then got obsessed with finishing the editing and rewriting of my first novel. (THE LILY POND)
It’s done now and published last month (9th May) but getting back into something that’s been left so long is turning out to be more difficult than I expected. I’m not sure it shows in the writing but the enthusiasm has withered to nothing.
I’ve got a few ideas floating around amongst the cotton wool and flumps.
I’ve been thinking of doing a short story about a local girl who has a charity named after her. I’ll give them the book as a contribution.
Actually I’m thinking of going to the beach tomorrow and doing some beach art as I’ve been doing dumb revision for dumb exams for like ever, or at least it feels like it.
I could do with getting out on my motorbike more often too.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m actually connected to the world.
The m, M, m, mEnNntTALL pills leave me drifting slightly above the earth, barely tethered as my head floats while the rest of me tags along behind, toes dragging against the floor as my body floats behind my bob bob bobbing head. It’s quite nice but sometimes it feels as if I’m breaking free from my moorings and need to touch down. Seriously, it’s not the pills, it’s the remnants of all that stuff, you know? When you lose it enough your mind severs those connections to the bullshit and the real stuff becomes your focus. That’s where I’m at, and?
I fancy a latte and a large piece of carrot cake at Dimbola lodge then maybe an hour or two building something cool, maybe a rock flower or some stars or something simple but groovy before attempting forcing some more maths into my unreceptive brain.
I’ve actually got the next chapter planned a little bit in the hope it might inspire me to get down to it. I don’t usually do planning, I write from the hip like the cool-ass gunslinger I am; er, dude.
I reckon you have to allow the muse to flow and you can’t do that if every little comma is worked out beforehand.
Anyway, isn’t that what editing is for?
The first draft is the chance to fly before the down to earth work starts although the last novel I’ve been working on has been great. Normally I hate checking every full stop but ‘The Act’ which may well end up getting yet another name change before publishing (Kim’s Brook maybe?) has been great. It’s in such a loose style that there’s plenty of room for adding bits of random metaphorical zang, zow and nong. Most of my stuff is a little more serious but maybe that’s exactly where I’ve been going wrong. Dumbfuck agents and traditional publishers have lost sight of the industry so I reckon anything goes now as I decide what’s worth publishing.
They can all go fuck themselves anyway because this one will be remaining with me until I decide it’s ready.
If HIS OWN DOWNFALL doesn’t get the recognition it deserves I won’t publish again until I’ve finished my degree. Too much work to be getting on with and I reckon 16 books is pretty good going for an ex reform-school kid. There’s time, at least I hope so. I’m just a bit worried the senility might get me before my best work is written.
It appears Astaar 2062 might go the same way and remain in the vault if I don’t manage to get on with the stoopid thing. If I could even manage to write a 1000 words a day I could finish the dumb thing by the end of July but… There’s always a but