You may have noticed that I’ve been especially quiet of late — even allowing for the holiday period. There are a couple of reasons for this, one — the obvious one — being that I haven’t exactly been in the mood for blogging, my satirical faculties a little desensitised by the sheer banality of Christmas!
The second reason, however, is that I have — as this post may have foretold — been somewhat busy.
Gripped by a renewed sense of purpose, unexpectedly comfortable with my abandonment of Tomorrow Will Come, I have found and pursued a new direction… a new literary direction that is actually an old direction rethought. I have finally settled on what I think (hope!) is the right novel.
There have been so many false starts over the past six months or so, but this feels much more comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that I’ve managed outline fourteen chapters in about a week or so. At this rate, the whole novels should be outlined within a fortnight (I’m not over-outlining, but nor am I prepared to fly by the seat of my pants as I attempted with Tomorrow Will Come… I’ve found a middle ground that feels about right for what I need.)
At this stage I really don’t want to tempt fate by sharing anything more about it, other than to say that it’s called As Morning Shows the Day. At the same time, however, I’m excited about returning to the kind of writing I know I’m best at… so the temptation to rabbit on about it is pretty strong.
But I won’t… I won’t, I won’t, I won’t.
Or maybe I will. Just not yet.