William Gibson (@GreatDismal) tweeted today, "Finishing a novel always feels to me like landing an airliner while I build the landing-gear." If that's the case, I think I may have just gotten to the part where the fuselage can be pressurized. Which is unfortunate, because that means that the passengers have been unconscious since 1995 while the would-be airliner hurtled through the air sans wings, tail, or lavatories. (I think it was launched into flight via some primitive sling-shot mechanism that involved a pair of redwoods, eighty thousand brasieres, and a herd of large, odd-toed ungulates).
Part of the craziness--I keep telling myself--is that, despite years of effort and many half-finished novel-like projects, this is really the one, the book that I'm actually going to hell-or-high-water finish, no matter how sucktacular (or amazing) it ends up being. It simply must be finished. This will be the first one. I expect that the next one will be...well, I don't want to curse myself by saying "easier," so I'll just say "more familiar."
It's not so much that the writing itself is difficult. It's the live-without-a-net aspect of it, the open-ended commitment to this tale, to these characters, to that collection of index cards tacked to the bulletin board. As I discovered, sometimes the way to shake loose from feeling stuck is to go work on something else for awhile, so yesterday I added 942 words to "The Last Time I Saw Roger of Derbyshire," a short story I've been knocking around with since September. That's a nice tale because--like the novel--I basically know where it's going, but unlike the novel, I've only got another three thousand or so words. The feeling of being close to the end of something charged me up for the longer work. As did the rumor of a small thing of mine potentially getting into pixels at some point in the near future; more about that anon.
The other inspirational thing was opening my chapbook manuscript and finding a forgotten half-finished story tacked onto the end of it. I need to get it out of the chapbook manuscript and into its own manuscript, but it may end up back in there in a little while. If you're, like, a fan, man, you heard about the chapbook back in October, and it was supposed to be done by now but obviously is not. But it will be. I'll tell you about it here, but you special bastards will hear about it first (you know who you are).
Anyhow...where was I? Oh yeah: gears and grinding and such. I'm not really complaining. Chapter Six, she is done. The thing about gears is that they're doing productive work, and so am I. It's not my fault I have to do four things at once to keep myself innarested.
Or maybe it is. But in any event--innarested I, in fact, am, and that's enough to keep grindy things spinning and happy brain cells happy.
Part of the craziness--I keep telling myself--is that, despite years of effort and many half-finished novel-like projects, this is really the one, the book that I'm actually going to hell-or-high-water finish, no matter how sucktacular (or amazing) it ends up being. It simply must be finished. This will be the first one. I expect that the next one will be...well, I don't want to curse myself by saying "easier," so I'll just say "more familiar."
It's not so much that the writing itself is difficult. It's the live-without-a-net aspect of it, the open-ended commitment to this tale, to these characters, to that collection of index cards tacked to the bulletin board. As I discovered, sometimes the way to shake loose from feeling stuck is to go work on something else for awhile, so yesterday I added 942 words to "The Last Time I Saw Roger of Derbyshire," a short story I've been knocking around with since September. That's a nice tale because--like the novel--I basically know where it's going, but unlike the novel, I've only got another three thousand or so words. The feeling of being close to the end of something charged me up for the longer work. As did the rumor of a small thing of mine potentially getting into pixels at some point in the near future; more about that anon.
The other inspirational thing was opening my chapbook manuscript and finding a forgotten half-finished story tacked onto the end of it. I need to get it out of the chapbook manuscript and into its own manuscript, but it may end up back in there in a little while. If you're, like, a fan, man, you heard about the chapbook back in October, and it was supposed to be done by now but obviously is not. But it will be. I'll tell you about it here, but you special bastards will hear about it first (you know who you are).
Anyhow...where was I? Oh yeah: gears and grinding and such. I'm not really complaining. Chapter Six, she is done. The thing about gears is that they're doing productive work, and so am I. It's not my fault I have to do four things at once to keep myself innarested.
Or maybe it is. But in any event--innarested I, in fact, am, and that's enough to keep grindy things spinning and happy brain cells happy.
