I’m very pleased with how Monk Quixote (the novel, not the blog) is going. While it’s still disconcerting how inconsistent things can become when writing in a non-linear fashion (reminding myself what a character does or doesn’t know at specific moments, what they’re wearing, in a surprisingly large number of scenes how inebriated they are.…) generally, I’m enjoying the writing experience.
I’m enjoying engaging with the story, and keeping the various elements going in my head. Having never finished a full length novel before, I still worry about various technical elements — the proportion of dialogue to narrative, pace and the reader’s eye (for years I struggled to accept that I didn’t have to write stories in real time) but this is the longest sustained period that I’ve managed to be productive. God forbid, I might even mean it this time.
I’m disappointed that I’ve lost one scene in the PC meltdown over the summer. I know someone who has it, because they told me how much they liked it. Sadly, we’re not speaking, so I can’t even enquire as to whether they’ve kept it (unlikely). Still. We mustn’t let a good description of cheese plants get in the way of finishing things.
One of the side effects of this period of productivity is how easily I find myself slipping into character as I’m walking to and from work. It’s vaguely reminiscent of an acid trip I experienced while sitting on a bench in Tombland in Norwich — where despite being aware it was ‘now’ I could see everything as it would have been in Victorian times. The two time frames and images overlapped, but the horse drawn cabs were entirely fictional.… As posted earlier, I constantly find myself making holodeck references. It’s both unreal and yet hyper-real. It feels entirely different to reading a book (at least for me) — presumably because I already know 95% of what’s going to happen. It’s tone and style that I’m working on when I walk in Tom or Liam or Anna or.… whoever’s shoes.
It’s weird, being God. Even if it is the God of Onions (bless you Liam).
