Writing a second book is proving a lot more difficult than writing the first. The first took seven years. This one I’ve set some deadlines, and seven months is closer to the target. Right now it feels like seven decades still wouldn’t be enough.
Ok, I know that’s not true, but you’ve hit me on a bad day when I should have written tons and I’ve actually dabbled at bits of nothing.
Here’s the state of progress. I have a lot of words – indeed, the majority of the book – that I wrote some time ago which need pulling together into an actual story. As I gradually do that, I realise just how much of what I wrote isn’t any good anyway. So, together with the cutting and pasting there is a lot of re-write. Or simply delete. I’m at the stage where this is quite demoralising. I can’t quite see where it is I’m going with the whole manuscript and every page just throws up more errors and dissatisfaction.
I’ve devised a plan of attack, though. Firstly, I’m not even looking at the beginning of the book yet. I know that will be very difficult: for In the Shade of the Mulberry Tree I rewrote and re-ordered the first three chapters more times than I can count. The additional problem in a sequel is that I have to introduce the characters and places afresh to new readers, but not in a way that bores established readers with repetition. Not an easy task, and not one I’m facing just yet.
Secondly, I’m taking individual chapters or stories and updating them in separate documents. In theory, I can then slot them all together again and have a wonderful flowing narrative. (Ok, so the ‘flow’ might encounter a few boulders, holes and unexpected whirlpools along the way but there will be more structure than at present.) Looking at the smaller pictures means that I can also write the parts that are appealing and appropriate for my mood for the day. Yesterday it was weddings; today it is car travails.
(In fact, I sometimes think the book could simply be about car problems…)
Thirdly, I am really trying to block out time for writing and editing. I’m not answering the front door, nor the phone. I’m abandoning the children to CBBC or the Wii. I’m making easy dinners. At times it feels like a dereliction of duty, but it enables me to make progress, and if I’m to get anywhere close to my goal I need to block time to focus on it alone.
It has a backhanded benefit: when I do have time with the family, it is truly time with them. I’m not spending it alongside them doing other things, but we genuinely play games together, or read together, or watch interesting TV together (you know, TV that we can discuss together afterwards, rather than wish we hadn’t wasted that hour of our life…)
So Book 2 will happen… is happening… but it is going to be a long haul and will require every bit of my creative energy.
On which note, I’d better get back to being… well, creative!
Nice post thanks