Because the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, I've started working on my novel again. From the beginning, of course; grave-robbing the old dead novel would make far too much sense. Actually, while I'm still calling it The Amateurs and it's still a caper story with overtones of magical realism about two professional jewel thieves trying to leave the business, everything else about it is so different that there is nothing left from which to rob. And that's OK.
I've been working very sporadically on the new outline for several weeks, and I finally started the first-draft composition on Monday. I'm up to about two thousand words, which is practically none, but I can't think too hard about how many I still have left to write (78,000!) or I'll stop cold and start doing useful things with my spare time, like keeping my apartment clean or learning carpentry, and that would never do.
In any case, I probably won't allude to it very much here. I found the running word count on How Not To Write A Novel to be a failsafe ambition-killer -- like dieting, it made me focus totally on results to the detriment of any healthy or effective process. I learned from it though, and the most important thing I learned is that I am so bogged down by fear of failure that I have to put myself through some amazingly gymnastic head-trips in order to get anything done. Also like dieting, now that I think about it.
Friday, June 16, 2006
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