So I’m back from my vacation. I took off between xmas and new years, as I tend to do every year. I spent most of the time working on a novel. Its up to 50 thousand words and I’m not quite done wrapping up the plot. If you can even call it a plot.
My process is…odd. I start writing without knowing what I’m writing about. Plot emerges from my writing as it goes along. I think the end result needs a massive amount of editing to remove the nonsensical bits before I’d even consider releasing the work.
I also find that in editing I come to despise my work.
I enjoy the act of writing, the escapism of immersing myself in another world of my own creation. Writing used to be how I coped with unpleasantness in my real life, but I have no significant unpleasantness at the moment. But I still enjoy the act of creation.
Going back over that creation, I see all the nonsensical parts that I wrote before a real story emerged and I have to cut wide swaths of work usually more than 50% ends up being superfluous.
I also find after writing something I don’t want to work with it anymore. So editing is out the window.
And isn’t limited to writing. Once I get a project working, I tend to lose interest in it. Case in point: My most recent project, the chamber heater for my Predator printer, I had to force myself to write about it here. It probably only appears on this blog because it took 25 minutes to get to temperature before I could test it, so I had some time to kill.
I could also point to the inconsistency of the posts on this blog as more evidence of my lack of follow-through/consistency. Fairly certain there’s a trust behavior i’m failing at by not keep up with posting here.
I have another novel in the works, with a lot less nonsense remaining to be removed. I may eventually publish that one. It needs a lot more editing of course so maybe it won’t ever be published.