This blog post is supposed to hold me to my plan. If I write it out and make it (semi-)public, then I should stick to it.
I’ve just finished a wip. Soon, I’ll submit to to my lovely agent. Now I need to decide what to work on next.
I have a number of things in progress, and they’re all quite fun and I could work on them (except that One We Don’t Mention, which was the unfortunate result of a Nanowrimo and demonstrated for me quite clearly that writing 50,000 words in a month is a good way for me to write total gibberish).
I’m reminding myself of that character in Old Hat, New Hat going, “too big, too small, too crooked, too tall”, only I’m going, “too depressing, too dystopian, too messed up in terms of love affair…”
So I wondered about the first ms I wrote.
Not quite the first, obviously. That one depended heavily on the word “suddenly” and on the narrator turning into a cat. The first one I wrote (and finished) when I was over the age of eight.
It was a lovely invented world full of evil magicians and smoke and revolution and confusion and a handsome, tortured hero and… but, you know, it was my learning book. I started writing it about (cough) seven years ago, and I think my writing is stronger now. Quite a lot stronger.
Instead of faffing with it and trying to edit, I’m going to make a chapter plan and rewrite from scratch. What could possibly go wrong…?
Right. I said it here. Now I have to do it.