The Novel Diary: Week 21
Word counts: 1,454 (Chapter 5); 28,182 (total).
To tell you the truth, I really don’t remember much about last week — novel-wise, that is. I obviously started Chapter 5 on Tuesday night, and may or may not have written Thursday night.
This week, though I have decided to buckle down and completely reserve 8-10 p.m. for novel writing. I will let go of an hour, as I will tonight to chill at Bobblehead’s, but other than that nothing will compromise my novel writing this week. No more shall I cave in to the nonexistent peer pressure to hang out. “No,” I will say. “I am writing my novel.”
Do you know what kind of sucks? What really slows your production? Not knowing what to write. Or, better yet, reviewing a previous chapter for the first time and thinking, “Wow. I really need to write something of substance. I really need to get this thing moving.” Like I said recently, I am not exactly sure if the novel has a well-defined plot, and I am totally cool with that. I like metaphors and symbolism to carries stories, and thinly veiled or tirelessly overused plot structures are one reason I do not go to many movies. I read way too much Hemingway and Raymond Carver during my literary formative years, so I suppose it is excusable. But something has to happen. Something has to propel the story.
Right now I feel like I am going through motions, being productive for no other purpose than to satisfy my inner drill sergeant. It has got me thinking: maybe Chapter 5 is actually Chapter 6, and Chapter 4 should be pushed farther back. This is something I need to think about. But much like I hate to stop running when I do not have to, I hate to stop writing. Time is precious. I have no clue when I will finish this thing, but I have that instant gratification bug infecting me. Do it — now Now NOW! Faster faster FASTER!
Frankly, I need to take my journal to the Foxhead, sip a Back Road Stout, and reason through my current morass.
To tell you the truth, I really don’t remember much about last week — novel-wise, that is. I obviously started Chapter 5 on Tuesday night, and may or may not have written Thursday night.
This week, though I have decided to buckle down and completely reserve 8-10 p.m. for novel writing. I will let go of an hour, as I will tonight to chill at Bobblehead’s, but other than that nothing will compromise my novel writing this week. No more shall I cave in to the nonexistent peer pressure to hang out. “No,” I will say. “I am writing my novel.”
Do you know what kind of sucks? What really slows your production? Not knowing what to write. Or, better yet, reviewing a previous chapter for the first time and thinking, “Wow. I really need to write something of substance. I really need to get this thing moving.” Like I said recently, I am not exactly sure if the novel has a well-defined plot, and I am totally cool with that. I like metaphors and symbolism to carries stories, and thinly veiled or tirelessly overused plot structures are one reason I do not go to many movies. I read way too much Hemingway and Raymond Carver during my literary formative years, so I suppose it is excusable. But something has to happen. Something has to propel the story.
Right now I feel like I am going through motions, being productive for no other purpose than to satisfy my inner drill sergeant. It has got me thinking: maybe Chapter 5 is actually Chapter 6, and Chapter 4 should be pushed farther back. This is something I need to think about. But much like I hate to stop running when I do not have to, I hate to stop writing. Time is precious. I have no clue when I will finish this thing, but I have that instant gratification bug infecting me. Do it — now Now NOW! Faster faster FASTER!
Frankly, I need to take my journal to the Foxhead, sip a Back Road Stout, and reason through my current morass.
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