Every November, a month long event occurs around the globe. It brings millions of writers together for an epic quest; to write a novel in a month. Whilst it is possible to write a book in a short space of time, it is nearly impossible to write one that makes any sense. Unless you’re a genius. Or in prison.
But what the hell eh? As I mentioned in my last post, I thought I’d keep a daily diary of what I’m thinking as I write. Or not write. So here it is so far in its 12A-PG13 edited glory. The final part will be released next week once the marathon is over.
All set to write 50,000 words of a future masterpiece. I have the plan. I have the tools. I have the power. I have the knowledge that I’ve written a book this year already which makes me feel super confident that I can do it again. No problemo. And in a month. Because I’m awesome. I’m ready to go!
Except today is Sunday. I always sleep in on a Sunday.
It’s Monday and I have a day off on my regular work schedule. Which means it’s time to write what I want to write without having to worry about someone else’s deadline. Yes! The keyboard awaits and I am the King.
Time to consult my story plan.
Story plan is rubbish and goes in the bin.
Got 1,000 words in and got bored.
New plan – invent more interesting story.
New story is a satirical comedy about death. I’m already laughing my head off.
Fireworks are pretty. Also my satirical comedy about death is no longer a satirical comedy about death. It’s now an action thriller about mutant ninja kittens. From Scotland.
Mutant Ninja Kittens are hard to empathise with. So they’ve gone into the bin. My main character is the Prime Minister of England. I like her. She’s tough, decisive, and has decided not to divulge some very personal information to her family. Not sure I’d make that call, but hey that’s me. She’s also not a mutant ninja kitten. I may be onto something here.
I’m eating a chocolate chip cookie. I like chocolate chip cookies. And Tyrells Mature Cheddar and Chive crisps. Not together. Obviously that would be wrong.
It’s Sunday again. It’s also bloody cold so I’ve gone for a run in the gym. It helps to warm my brain up. My brain is like a Ford Transit. It takes ages to get going, but once it starts it’s really hard to make it stop. It’s frightening. Just like a Ford Transit.
I’ve written 15,000 words. Boo yeah! It would have been 20,000 words, but I had to commit kitten related literaturecide a few days ago. I just made up a new word. In your face Oxford English Dictionary!
My story is populated with 4 main characters. A mother, father, son and daughter. It sounds boring. Like one of those wank ‘literary’ novels I usually hate. Weird thing is I can’t stop writing it at the moment. If anyone sees me chuckling to myself don’t worry I’m not mad. I’m a writer. It’s kind of similar. Whatever, just don’t call an ambulance or the police on me.
An old lady just glared at me in Tescos. I was just trying to get some milk and she told me I had no respect. It was only when the guy behind the checkout didn’t move or talk to me that I realised it was remembrance day and I went to get milk during the 2 minute silence.
I think about sitting in a corner to think about what I did. But I have too much work to do so I don’t.
WILL JOHN DISCOVER A WAY TO FINISH HIS STORY WITHOUT MUTANT NINJA KITTENS?
WILL HIS FRIEND’S GERMAN SHEPHERD PROVIDE AN INTEGRAL PLOT TWIST?
WILL JOHN BE MAN ENOUGH TO SHOW HIS FACE IN TESCO AGAIN?
FIND OUT NEXT WEEK ONLY ON JOHN’S BLOG & NEWSLETTER