to say I know what I’m doing right now. Is an understatement. I feel like I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, I feel like I’m snorkling in gloop. Here’s a summary for those that want to catch up:

1: novice writes 50,000 words of fiction in a month.
2: book is in an unreadable state – plot is all over the place
3: novice reads ‘creative writing’ books and discovers he’s used every cliché and ‘no-no’
4: novice tries to make sense of plot in the 2nd draft, so he can at least let people read it
5: novice discovers he’s got a lot to learn.

Its not all doom and gloom, as I know every writer either has to spend ages writing a book, ages rewriting a book, or both. I guess I’ve gotta give myself a break and plough on regardless.

Below, I’ve stated about how i’m uncertain about my plot and I need to sort it out, and I claim to done that, but no. Simply not true. I’ve been wrestling all this time with what to do about it, by pushing about new words on my plate into old sentences and thinking I’m doing a grand job.

But now, now I’m clear… yesterday was a turning point, as all the faffing text of indecision was removed and I started converting all the first person ‘I’s’ from the story. Worrying less about perfection and treating this as my training document. I know now, that when I finish, I won’t have a masterpiece like I wanted, but I will have a readable document that resembles the idea I had in my head.

Aaaand, I set myself a new goal. I want to be able to finish it before my parent die! No joke either. My parents aren’t ill, but my dad is at a stage in his age, health and physique whereby he could take a turn (stroke) all of a sudden. So this morbid thought is enough to ramp up the enthusiasm, and get this book done before he loses his marbles completely.

Yesterdays write was a good one… and I probably wrote some of my best passages ever. Which isn’t difficult, as I’ve never really written anything great before!

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