The project. When I’m not working at the part-time job, ‘the project’ is my focus. But today, I find there’s trouble in my fiction-building paradise. I’ve made a big mistake– I may not be writing what I want, but rather writing what I think may work as a publishable book. I’m at the point where I’m bored with my own plot, and hell, if I don’t find it interesting, why would I expect anyone else to give it a read?
Where this leads me– I may be scrapping a great portion of the 10000 words of fiction I’ve written and starting again. I like certain elements of what I’ve done, but for the most part I’m not feeling it as a whole. This is a dreadful thing to realise. It’s the kind of thing you wish you’d seen coming at 500 words, rather than 10000 words. I need to make it clear that I’m not retreating because it’s become hard work, but rather intervening before I declare my pile of words stillborn.
I think there’s a really important lesson in this: write what you’d want to read. If that means it’s about normal, everyday sorts of people and problems — fine. But if it should be about mermaid cowboys shopping for sequinned trousers — better to write that and feel it, instead of churning out something you don’t believe in and would certainly pass over in a bookshop.
Coming to that conclusion is the first thing that’s felt right about this project all day.