Usually, I write a good old romance novel and then discount it after November as a pile of crap, but a good exercise of focus. Things I love are put down whilst I do it and often are not picked up again because I am fickle at best with these things.
November was different, but not in the usual way that writers say oh this is different because this current project is the best thing I have ever produced. It's different because, well, it's a whole different kettle of fish.
I have previously tried to write things with a bit of disaster and craziness in the middle, but this is a sort of semi-apocolyptic thing with a romance novel in the middle of it. I keep needing to step away from it for a bit and then go back to it, just to give myself some headspace to recover. The problem is that writing anything which is that harrowing can be an emotional experience that really takes it out of you. The stuff that I'm writing at the moment is the stuff of my nightmares, but I have to keep reminding myself that it is the fabric of some people's lives and that really isn't overly far away when you think about it.
And on that sombre note, I will catch you later.
No comments:
Post a Comment