What do you do when your head is full of novels? There are so many I want to write. And I want to write them all now.
I want to write the fifth and last novel in the Fleet Quintet so that would be, at last, a quintet and not a quartet (though for many years it languished as a trilogy....) Ideas for this keep popping into my head. The problem has always been how to tie up all the lose ends. There are quite a few! And no part of what is remaining of the story is linear. I have finally hit on the idea of a Storyteller. This in itself probably isn't very original but it leads to several twists and revelations. In fact, the revelations are what draw me to the story. I am, quite frankly, just dying to reveal them!
I also want to write the next Exodus Sequence story. The main character has appeared fully formed in my head and man, does she talk a lot. I can hear her voice, her accent, what she has to say, who she says it to and why. There are two other characters, both instantly recognisable from an Exodus Sequence story called "Crashed." This isn't particularly a sequel (the stories aren't constructed that way) but it does explain an awful lot. In fact, there is quite a lot of explanation in this story but because it is done by this brilliant character (the one whose voice I can hear in my head), it sounds great. I really need to start writing these conversations down.
I also want to write the next fantasy novel. I've been trying to get the first one published for a year now, so far in vain. It's created something of a dampener for me but I decided I just had to get going on the second one otherwise the series will never get going and I'm really keen that it does. So out of all my choices, I picked that one and am into Chapter 2. Commercially, it makes the most sense, despite an agent not yet picking it up.
And then there are the short story spin-offs from this "low fantasy" series. The short stories take place in the fantasy-type realm, while the series of novels are set in the real world, so to speak. I've loved creating both.
And then there are those present-tense literary style short stories, snippets from my own life told in the third person, a very strange experience which is proving to be amazingly cathartic. I've written one so far and it was wonderful to get it all out - truly turning aspects of my life (which bother me) into art. There are quite a few more where that one came from too.
And then there's that strange novel I want to write which was my first ever screenplay. Fortunately I abandoned the screenplay idea (I'm no good at it) but the story is well-developed and would make a great novel.
And then, finally, there is That Difficult Novel, where this diary began way back in February 2015. Has it really only been four years since I started it?! How is that possible? It feels like decades ago. My Great Literary Work, this has turned into an albatross and it weighs heavily around my neck. I know I can fix it up. I know I can turn it into something spectacular.
But, dear God, when? I've got enough work to keep me busy for the next ten lifetimes. It doesn't seem to matter that no one is reading my work. I am more fuelled than ever. It just doesn't die. The fire is burning so high it's lighting up the whole sky.
It's overwhelming.
I want to write the fifth and last novel in the Fleet Quintet so that would be, at last, a quintet and not a quartet (though for many years it languished as a trilogy....) Ideas for this keep popping into my head. The problem has always been how to tie up all the lose ends. There are quite a few! And no part of what is remaining of the story is linear. I have finally hit on the idea of a Storyteller. This in itself probably isn't very original but it leads to several twists and revelations. In fact, the revelations are what draw me to the story. I am, quite frankly, just dying to reveal them!
I also want to write the next Exodus Sequence story. The main character has appeared fully formed in my head and man, does she talk a lot. I can hear her voice, her accent, what she has to say, who she says it to and why. There are two other characters, both instantly recognisable from an Exodus Sequence story called "Crashed." This isn't particularly a sequel (the stories aren't constructed that way) but it does explain an awful lot. In fact, there is quite a lot of explanation in this story but because it is done by this brilliant character (the one whose voice I can hear in my head), it sounds great. I really need to start writing these conversations down.
I also want to write the next fantasy novel. I've been trying to get the first one published for a year now, so far in vain. It's created something of a dampener for me but I decided I just had to get going on the second one otherwise the series will never get going and I'm really keen that it does. So out of all my choices, I picked that one and am into Chapter 2. Commercially, it makes the most sense, despite an agent not yet picking it up.
And then there are the short story spin-offs from this "low fantasy" series. The short stories take place in the fantasy-type realm, while the series of novels are set in the real world, so to speak. I've loved creating both.
And then there are those present-tense literary style short stories, snippets from my own life told in the third person, a very strange experience which is proving to be amazingly cathartic. I've written one so far and it was wonderful to get it all out - truly turning aspects of my life (which bother me) into art. There are quite a few more where that one came from too.
And then there's that strange novel I want to write which was my first ever screenplay. Fortunately I abandoned the screenplay idea (I'm no good at it) but the story is well-developed and would make a great novel.
And then, finally, there is That Difficult Novel, where this diary began way back in February 2015. Has it really only been four years since I started it?! How is that possible? It feels like decades ago. My Great Literary Work, this has turned into an albatross and it weighs heavily around my neck. I know I can fix it up. I know I can turn it into something spectacular.
But, dear God, when? I've got enough work to keep me busy for the next ten lifetimes. It doesn't seem to matter that no one is reading my work. I am more fuelled than ever. It just doesn't die. The fire is burning so high it's lighting up the whole sky.
It's overwhelming.
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