As they say, Oh, My, god. I have a new novel I want to finish. This is not exactly great.
So change is happening. We are moving. My posts this week, possibly into next… well, there may not be any.
I will always remember what I was told after I revealed in 2013 I was writing Passports and showed the initial draft first to my (English) Mrs., and then to an English woman friend. Having read it, separately they both noticed that I was inadvertently mixing American-English language forms and British-English.
In my early-middle twenties, I thought much that same way as he writes. It all seemed hypocritical, absurd, and unnecessary. Then I met someone who suggested a perspective I had never before really considered…
Don’t groan. I know you find that all rather obscure history stuff. But I find it fascinating, okay.
And you never know when you might find it useful knowledge…
I admit I adore some of those “who” I write, and my hope is that over the course of a book that a reader comes to do so as well.
How DO I write? This way: I write cover to cover in a style that I enjoy reading…
I think about all I’ve published, as well as what I am writing. I’m chatty and often casual on a free blog post like this. To me, my blog here is talking over a coffee, or something harder…
Seriously, I’m not inherently anti-social or excessively aloof, or inclined to hermit-hood. I’ve been told (more than once) in person that I’m actually a pleasant person. I’m also “socially” NOT my uncle.
We are truly UNIQUE as an author, really, only with our first published work. After that, while naturally we hope to grow and to improve, we will unavoidably always include aspects of the same again and again.
“Today is your birthday. Actually, it was February 29… and that was you. Of course you were born on a leap year. You couldn’t have had just an ordinary day every year like the rest of us.”
As for you visitors, and especially, followers. I can’t follow everyone back who follows me. However, don’t think I don’t notice you have been here.
Here, just north of London, may I at least have a cup of coffee first, I just woke up. My personal view in the face of all of this now increasingly may be summed up in six words: “I don’t know, I wasn’t there.”
The first time I ever mentioned – back in university nearly three decades ago – that I was interested in visiting France, my mother turned to me and was immediately harshly negative: “Are you nuts? They hate us.”
I have said here previously that I don’t count words when I write. (I disagree with the idea of measuring “progress” by daily “bean counting.”) I don’t even really look at page numbers. Early on in a manuscript especially, I just write and write and write.