I’m now two weeks into writing my new novel from scratch. I still haven’t come up with names for the characters — they’re still just letters of the alphabet. This is probably a good thing because writing their names out longhand would probably consume too much time.
The book recommends writing the first notes in longhand. I agree with them. But God help me when the time comes for me to go back and try to decipher my own handwriting.
It’s amazing how the thought of donating a hundred dollars to a charity I detest has motivated me. For the past few days I’ve been waking up on my own without the need of the alarm clock. (That doesn’t mean, of course, that I actually get out of bed before the alarm goes off.) In two weeks I have nearly a hundred pages of notes written; several characters drawn; and even a halfway-decent plot structure built. At this rate I might have two or three books written by the time the country finally gets around to legalizing gay marriage. In the meantime, I’ll keep plugging away.
Procrastination remains an enemy. But what can I do? My wrist gets sore and needs a break. I find myself playing computer games, checking the latest presidential polls, and, oh, writing blog posts. Thanks for tuning in.
