back to the book
It's been a very long time, far too long, many months away, between freelancing and moving across the whole damned country, but finally, yes finally I'm able to sit down and work on my novel. Which isn't easy because, well, see above.
Many months away. Who are these people and why are they doing these things to each other? How do I write in this voice? What am I trying to say with this story? Worse, I'm not picking up the thread of a narrative, but adding to it, layering and developing some of the characters who were previously sketched in lightly with pencils; now I take oil paints and create a rich luster. Or at least that's the idea. But after months away? I've lost the sense of how to work with these tools, how to create the effects I desire. Everything feels awkward, my metaphors feel clumsy and my word choices too blunt.
But I'm getting better at it. It's been a week or so, not working every day, but a little bit here and there and finally today a bigger chunk of time. Here's how I know I've got the hang of it: I read through a pivotal sequence on Friday, a plot turning point, one I know people have had trouble with – relatively small problems, fixable problems – and realized it was all wrong for the book. The novel has a kind of bittersweet melancholy to it, very interior, very moody. This scene was more like the romantic comedies I used to write, with a bit of bite and a bite of silliness. It stood out. I think it threw readers out of the story, even if they didn't know exactly why.
Today I began writing a new scene from scratch. Different locale, different tone. It fits far better into the rest of the story.
Writing is hard. Rewriting is harder. But when you understand where you've gone off course, when you get that click and knowledge of how to do what needs doing there, it feels damned good.
It's been a long time but I'm writing again.