Calling To The Faraway Towns

Some chapters are easy to rewrite, others seem to take days of doing two hundred word chunks, leaving it for a few hours and then repeating that process for about a week. The last one fell into the latter.

One of the biggest threads that went through this story right at the start was the question of how long the police officer and the girl who go missing have known each other. For ages whilst planning this I had it down that they knew each other well and that he was trying to help the Mother find her daughter not only as part of his professional obligation but also because he was friends with them. Deep down I wanted the reader to get the slightest impression that it could have been him that killed her. This was also the reason that the alien presence was hidden away on the first half of the earlier draft.

Having written the chapter with the girl coming back from the dead and meeting the police officer again it reads much better and with far more tension if they’ve never met. Of course he’ll have seen her picture in the photos provided for the posters at the time of her disappearance but he’s never actually met her. It’s worth it for the initial moments they spend in each other’s company with him not knowing who she is. The penny dropping for him about halfway through the chapter is far better than them both just saying hello at the start.

I probably shouldn’t be making such massive wholesale changes at this stage. Is it not better to alter things if you think the alternative is better rather than just carry on?

The Sound A Zebra Makes When Spotting A Lion

I’m being too visual again. Part of the problem with this whole story starting as a film is that I’m occasionally skipping past descriptions of location with the mistaken assumption that the reader can see it already. It results in underwriting certain scenes. As a rather good example this evening I’ve managed to take one sentence and up it to two paragraphs.

I’m not saying those two paragraphs are any good though, just that they describe the surroundings in a far greater manner.

It’s also the only section I’ve done this evening. Whilst minimal it’s certainly better than nothing at all.

3-2-1 Let’s Jam.

I’ve developed something called the ‘three location rule’. When this book was going to be a film it was quite possible for one character to move from one location, to another and then a third fairly quickly. When I tried to write all that into a chapter it came across as really cramped.

It read a lot like ‘Arrive at location one, write description, action, move to second, describe surroundings, action, move to third…’. As such it was terrible so the new rule is a maximum or two locations in any one chapter.

I originally had the Mother in her house realising that her daughter had not returned home after many hours, she then went to the local pub to ask around and she then ends up at the police station reporting it. Now it’s just the first two, the police interaction will be another chapter. This does mean I have a whole ream of text currently homeless and floating around the file but we’ll patch it in later.

The next two chapters were ones I’d already built up from scratch in the last rewrite and they’re not too bad as a result. With this in mind, as of this afternoon, I’m about a third of the way through this rewrite.

I might watch some Doctor Who tonight as a celebration.

Midnight In A Perfect World

I’ve been on holiday from work for the last week or so and as such I seem to have reverted back to my old writing time frames. Nothing during the day, only getting underway after 9pm and continuing to past midnight. It’s short blasts, tonight with some video game music in the background and it’s proven to work really well.

I don’t think I’ll be going as full on as I did when I was a teenager though. During that time I could quite easily be up until 5am writing, often falling asleep at the desk with the radio still on softly in the background. I’m not sure the family would appreciate me being in bed well into the next afternoon these days.

I’m going to stop for the night now as it’s just past midnight but I’ve read back the stuff I’ve done this evening and it’s good.

My only wish would be to be able to keep that timescale going but I’m back in work on Thursday.

The TV Static Grey Sky

In a full swoop, a delicate press of a key, another chapter bites the dust. The one thousand or so word stretch detailing the young girl walking down the beach and being captured by some alien being is now entirely redundant due to this process taking place in the town shop. The strange part is that it read through fairly well early on and there’s a few descriptions I’m quite happy with. It still goes though, falling down to the cutting room floor.

The latter half of the chapter has notes all over it saying that it falls flat on its face and never really gets back up. I suppose it doesn’t really matter now.

With the chunks of rewriting and creating an entirely new chapter in the early going to bridge a gap the word count has sprung up. My original 55k is, even after deleting that entire chapter, up to 56.700. It’s still going well.

You Can’t Buy Valour From A Vending Machine

I had a few days away, I meant to take my laptop and do some writing whilst I wasn’t home but it didn’t happen. I was staying with the in laws and it may have looked slightly rude if I just put my computer down on the dining table and ignored everybody else whilst I worked away.

As such I’ve only just got underway again tonight and, to my dismay, realised that I had stopped right before a really tough section. It’s the first meeting of the police officer and the Mother of the missing child ten years after the fact. There was a simple note from my read through right after all this that simply says ‘This conversation feels really forced’. In a way it’s supposed to as it’s both characters reacquainting themselves with each other but realising they’re still not seeing eye to eye even after all this time. The entire thing felt really exposition heavy though, as if subliminally I’d taken this opportunity to dump a whole ton of facts down.

Therefore I’ve carved it up and cut it down a lot. She is trying her level best to ignore him and he holds out an incredibly pathetic olive branch that he thinks might just save the situation. It doesn’t and she leaves the scene wondering why exactly the ever thought this town could ever change. In draft one they just seemed to be exchanging pleasantries.

It works better but I’m not quite deleting that note just yet.

Do Not Request Kissing

I’m getting bizzare levels of book anxiety now. If I don’t get at least a chunk of this rewrite done each day then I’m getting worried. Sometimes this means I’ll try and write for a short while and start really beating myself up about it if I don’t feel I’ve done enough on it.

So doing nothing makes me feel guilty, only managing to do a little makes me feel worse. It’s really strange and quite horrible.

Add to this the constant sensation of this all being a waste of time. The loudest voice in my head is the one saying that this is just a hokey alien story set in Scotland that nobody will want to read. By the time this is anywhere near ready I’ll have been working on it for around three years. That’s a long time to work on something and it not to really go anywhere.

It’s been a frustrating day, just in case you can’t tell.