The beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning, I’m not sure.

Nine years ago, I think, I decided that I would write a book.  I don’t remember the day exactly, but I suspect I would have been in England and that I had walked around a couple of bookshops, seens thousands of them for sale and decided that clearly it couldn’t be that hard, so I’d give it a go.

writing 2

There were a few hurdles to overcome, I don’t read fiction or watch films so writing fiction was going to be difficult, I don’t know anything factual well enough to write a book about it, I had quite a demanding job at that time which didn’t leave me time to do a lot else, but notwithstanding, I’m nothing if not stupid enough to think I can do things like this, so I sat down in front of my laptop and started to write.

Writing

Surprisingly I had an idea almost straight away, something that was topical. I wrote. A lot. Within a short time, probably around three weeks I had 40,000 words of a basic story.

Disaster struck. My laptop broke, hard drive not recoverable, nothing backed up. Whilst I was gutted about my story I was absolutely devastated about losing some photos of me with my first granddaughter. The writing then, as happens so often in my life with a new passion, fell by the wayside.

Over the next few years I started to write it again. I had bursts of enthusiasm, I’d write for a week or two, sometimes the lost story, sometimes new projects. Finally, about a year ago I had six different books in various stages of composition, none of them more than 40,000 words in.

Then, an epiphany (ties nicely into yesterday’s post I thought) in work. Bored, fed up, I wrote a plaintive post on here basically whinging about how rubbish everything is and I received an electronic boot up the backside. I dusted off the most advanced manuscript, not the original one and wrote with a vengance. I’d reached an impasse before but as I started to write I found that ideas just flowed. I had no idea where I was going with certain things but they seemed to resolve themselves as my fingers sped along the keyboard.

eldoctorow1

Last night, around midnight north African time, I wrote the last words of my first completed novel. I know there are plot holes, in fact there is precious little plot there are so many holes, I know there are terrible timeline issues, I also know there are some scenes written twice, factual inaccuracies and some scenes that I will need to add for continuity, but last night I finished a novel.

Only, as all writers know, I haven’t finished at all. All I’ve done is put enough words into a document for me to allow myself to call it “my novel.” The great Stephen King now recommends a period of a few weeks, six I think he said, where I dont even look at it. I read something by another author, much less well known (cant remember his name even) saying that for a first novel it’s guaranteed to be rubbish so leave it for six months without so much as a peek, write a second novel then go back to the first one and rewrite it. Then it needs an edit. Then perhaps another edit. Then maybe a rewrite. Then Beta readers need to pore over it, then it needs another edit. Then a polish.

I may never get any further than where I am now, I may rewrite, I may self publish, I may send it for rejection by some agents, but at least I can now always say to myself I´ve written a novel. (Nobody ever said it had to be a published one).

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About bobleponge216

Elderly rotund toothless male seeks wilderness to travel to.
This entry was posted in Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to The beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning, I’m not sure.

  1. Sorry to hear about the laptop breaking after all the hard work and pictures saved on there. Congratulations on behind back behind the keyboard and churning out a story, maybe one day it will be published perhaps?

    Liked by 1 person

    • I was much more upset about the pictures to be honest. I can rewrite a story, the ideas are already there but I cant shrink my granddaughter to retake the pictures, and at 13 years of age I´m not sure she’d appreciate wearing nappies either.
      Maybe maybe, who knows. I have to convince myself its good enough for someone to read before infliciting it on anyone else. Many thanks for taking the time to read and comment, its appreciated.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Good job.
    Perhaps you could serialise it on your blog. I did that with The Orphans and now with Knight and Deigh (editing and rewriting as I go along).

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Nikki says:

    No words of wisdom or helpful hints on where to go from here… just a hearty and sincere “Congratulations!!!” from someone who enjoys your writing. Hope I get a chance to lay down my $25 someday and contribute to your lavish lifestyle.

    Liked by 1 person

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