So I'm stuck with my darling beautiful book and I can't seem to move through it. Every paragraph feels like a page, every page a scene, every scene a book of war & peace proportions. You get the picture.
And I *love* revising my manuscripts, too much, really. Improving my sucky first draft is often more rewarding than getting the pages done in the first place. But right now, ack, I don't know, I'm bored.
And initially I'll blame anything but the scene. It's daylight savings and being unable to get up and do my pages. It's my desk, which is an old kitchen table and has never felt conducive to writing, it's the headache I can't quite seem to get rid of or maybe it's work and the fact I'm so tired when i get home that all I can do is beg TJ to make my dinner and pop me into bed.
But eventually I realise what I'm actually bored with is the scene. Ho hum, they're in a carriage. Ho hum, they arrive at a beautiful London townhouse - blah blah blah - haven't I read this a hundred times before? Yawn.
So could somebody please send a note to my characters and tell them they have to start spicing things up or i'm going to fall asleep at my keyboard? And if they could do a few things that are just WRONG, that would be good too. I don't want them treating each other all nicey nice. I want them to arrive at the London townhouse and find themselves in quarters little better than the housekeeper. I want my heroine to arrive in London only to witness the one things she's most frightened of. I want the long anticipated visit to the dressmakers not to happen, but for them to get a wardrobe of cast-me-downs that don't fit.
Hold on! I feel less bored already. Excuse me while I go write.
Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen. I have found my new character mantra.
Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen. I have found my new character mantra.
4 comments:
Yippeeeeeeee! You're back!
Kick their oh-so-Regency asses--I'm sure they deserve it!
I know - i've been a slacker!
And they totally deserve it - they've been playing nice for too long!
it's the good manners of the Regency, i reckon.
Everyone's being so respectable, no one is giving anyone the finger nor are they leaning out of the carriage window shouting "Ya Mole!" at the ladies of the night...
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