Well surprise, surprise, I actually dusted off the novel tonight, and spent some quality time with it. Which is nice, because I was beginning to think that it was going to die the painful, unfortunate death that so many of my unfinished projects have suffered.
Which is not say that it's necessarily free from suffering that death. But I have managed to buy it some time.
I fought and struggled with it for what felt like hours, sure that I had managed a frighteningly significant output. In the end, though, it was only three pgaes. Nothing to sneeze at, I guess, but hardly frighteningly significant.
On the bright side, finding my way into the narrator's voice after these many weeks spent idling, was surprisingly easy to do. And he's a blast to write, because he alternates between rambling, run-on sentences and short, abrupt, sentence fragments.
This book is going to be an editor's worst nightmare.
And I love that.
I'm feeling a bit like some of my more concrete plans and intentions for the book have started to slip awa in the time that I haven't been working on it, and that' I'll be sort of winging it again from here on in, but I'm still hoping that some of it will gradually come back to me. I know, pretty much, the remainder of this chapter, but it's pretty shaky after that...
Wait, it's coming back to me.
Wow, that was pretty cool, actually. While writing about where the book was going from here, I started to actually *think* about where the book was going from here. And, upon thinking about it, remembered where the book was going from here.
Who'd have thought that thinking would prove that beneficial?
I'm surely as shocked as you are.
In any case, three pages after weeks of a dry spell still seems pretty insignificant. While it's nice to know that, at the very least, the book isn't irrepairably broken, it'll still be awhile before I'm back in the flow of it again. But the ideas are still buzzing, and assuming I can find the time for it, I'm quite looking forward to finding that flow.