I'm trying to pull together ideas for another short story - I haven't written one for some time and the novel is parked in a backwater of my brain, empty of fuel. It's not as if I'm not working on it at all; I sketched out the dedications and the acknowledgments today. However it would perhaps be more useful if I had some idea of what happens in the remaining 9/10ths of the book that I've not plotted yet - yes, it's old-fashioned enough to have a plot. Also it's not helped that I've a notion to turn it into something more aimed at teenagers - sometimes a bandwagon just beckons to be jumped on.
I not really certain that I'm carrying a novel in me anyway. I much prefer writing shorter pieces and the 'writing a novel' thing is really much too pretentious pour moi. Doubtless it will eventually fall through a large crack in my strangely busy life and vanish into the palace of lost endeavours.
The other thing I could do, if I got the appropriate area of my anatomy into gear, is to send off to a publisher a story I wrote a few years ago which has been critically well-received by the six or so people who've read it. But can I bring myself to do it? What if they were just being kind? Egos are such delicate things, easily punctured and difficult to patch when deflated. Do I want to cope with the trauma of rejection? Will I be overwhelmed by the disappointment and be forced to seek refuge in a small shed on a remote island in the Bristol Channel? Will I lose my liking for 85% cocoa solid chocolate? Should I grow my moustache again? Do I really have women's ankles?
So many questions, so few answers.
Now for a picture. How about a staircase leading to a closed door - surely there has to be some symbolism in there somewhere?
4 comments:
Well, now, if you sent the short story off and it was not well received, simply assume you sent it knocking on the wrong door and keep knocking (like Hugh Grant in Love Actually) until you get the right one. Somebody out there will love it and publish it. I've found that if the niggling to be in print is stronger than the fear of being rejected, that little positive thought is far stronger than an editor's pen. (And short of taste bud surgery I know of nothing that will derail the taste for dark chocolate.)
How does one open that door without falling down the staircase?
I agree completely with Pauline. Is this the one you had posted bits of on another blog?
I'm sure you are both right. Courage, mon brave!
Door, Pauline? It's a strange one and impossible, I would imagine, with a tray of dainty cucumber sandwiches,
No, Shara, it is another which unusually, in my case, is finished. I can send you a copy if you like.
I would love that, please do.
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