“Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.”
— George Orwell
Fear not, dear blog readers (all five of you — Hi, Mum!); the novel-in-progress is indeed, in progress. I’m at a point where I have many of the most challenging (and fun to write) scenes down, and I have to do the thing I’ve liked least since I was a child — math. I have to sew together the scenes, drop hints in early scenes so the later ones make sense, and generally labor to tie it all up in a bow.
Reading the above may make you think: ‘Sounds like light at the end of the tunnel! This puppy should be first-draft ready any moment.’ Nah. Just — nah. It’s not there yet. Not even close.
But I still do love my little novel-that-could like it’s a pathetic, wet, shivering puppy whose smile has creepy human-like qualities. WHO’S A GOOD DOG?