A brief post, today, as I’m running a little behind.
This morning, I got back to work on the outlines for The Dummy. I’ve now resigned myself to the fact that the outlines alone are not going to be a short project. I already have thirty single-spaced pages of notes and my central character (the eponymous dummy) is, at this stage, only eight years old. Given that the novel is intended to span his entire life — and that he lives to about eighty… well, the maths are scary. The outline itself will qualify as a “big book”! Three hundred single-spaced pages anyone?
There’s no doubt in my mind, now, that this will have to be a series of books.
The upside is that these are characters and situations I most definitely want to spend a long time with.
© 2008 Gary William Murning
Today I hit a bit of a problem with the chapter outlines for We Are Watching. I’m succeeding in shaping the plot in its necessary form, but with three chapters outlined it still hasn’t really ignited for me. I like the opening, my characters, the story so far but… I suddenly find myself questioning whether this is a novel I want to write. Very unexpected but not unusual.
Tomorrow will probably be very different. If not… well, I’ll play around with a few more ideas. I’d rather have all of the doubt out of the way one way or another at outline stage than spend a few months working on a novel that ultimately doesn’t do what I want it to do.
An important part of the process — but still a pain in the arse! 😉
My little corner of Paradise seemed anything but paradisiacal when I awoke from my slumber this dark November morn. In fact, it was pretty bloody bleak — one of those half-arsed English winter days of misty hills and intermittent drizzle, actual sunlight (or daylight, for that matter) a seemingly long-forgotten memory. I sat staring at my chapter outlines, which have been progressing nicely, looked out of the window, shivered, drank tea, stared at my outlines a while longer — and then gave up, had some lunch and went to Whitby for the afternoon.
Even bleaker, but somehow right. Slate grey skies and seas, the sense of a place abandoned (up on the West Cliff, at least — down in the harbour it was much more lively.) A welcome break.
A dark, rather poor quality video of the piers from the West Cliff follows. It gives a fair impression of what the day was like.