I’m getting incredibly side tracked by my writing at the moment.
I’m like a kid in a sweet shop and everything’s free. There are so many aisles I want to go down and so many jars I want to stick my grubby little mitts into, but I can’t put it all into my mouth at once. That was a great analogy wasn’t it? I felt good about it too.
I’ve got my novel – which is limping onwards and then I have the blog, the Limebird Blog and then all the random other things that just keep popping into my head. I seriously need a month in a darkened room to just sit there and type away at all the stuff circulating in my head. I keep coming up with idea after idea and dashing them down on paper quickly before the next great idea comes along. They aren’t necessarily for the same project though. That’s the bugger. They are ideas for great new projects.
The problem is, ideas are like plants – if you don’t nurture and feed them, they wither and die. I don’t want to return to something and be all like ‘oh, I thought about that ages ago and now I can’t be bothered, let alone remember what it was all about’. To use a cliché, I want to strike whilst the iron is hot. I want to get in there and rattle away on my poor hard done to keyboard and make my many ideas a reality.
Committing to one idea over another is like choosing which child you love more: it quite simply cannot be done. You love them all equally and I really do love all of these ideas. Yet, I have to be analytical and detached when making decisions on which project to pursue. One idea I’ve had recently which has been taking me off on a tangent, is publishing my diaries from when I was growing up. I’ve kept a diary from when I was about 10 until the present day. I filled one diary when I was 17 in less than a year. Honestly, the things I did, the way I behaved, the way I treated others and how they treated me was terrible and amazing all at the same time.
I spend most of it saying stuff like “I really love this guy, so I’ll feel a bit bad about dumping him next week because I want to go out with his mate”. I was such a lovely girl wasn’t I? I read through those pages and cannot recognise who I was or why I was like that. I think I only really became the me ‘proper’ when I moved in with my husband, my then fiancé, after Uni in 2004. Before that, I was just a complete jabbering car wreck of a person. Not necessarily a bad person, just very unhappy and very lost.
I’d love to share some of that. Although I don’t think I could publish it all or if I did, I’d have to change the names of places and people and publish it anonymously!!
Still a good idea though. I like it, but it’s got the potential to stay put. All the writing for it has technically been done by me years ago.
Then stories start growing in my head and before I know it, I’ve got a Sleeping Beauty style forest of thorns and brambles to hack my way through. Writing is very organic you know.
I’d love to get at least one of my bigger projects finished though. The novel is just one of them and I’d like to get that one done.
I’ve been having a few second thoughts about things like setting and motivation recently. I’m really tempted to move the first scene from Liverpool to some North Yorkshire village or other. Give it that clichéd sort of other worldly feel. I don’t know. Eurgh, I hate second guessing myself, but there is just something not knitting together with that story at the moment and I wonder if it’s that. I’ve been having a rewrite of the first 20,000 words or so and now I’m considering having a rewrite of that. Not much happens there in that 20,000 word start. I’d lose my reader instantly. As my main reader is myself and then him in doors, I know both of us would just give up after the first 5,000 as nothing much had happened.
I want to get a more dynamic plot going. I know most of it and I know what the crescendo is. I just want to get there without being too contrived, boring or verbose.
I need to be more sagacious instead of my usual more stochastic approach to working.