There’s a lot I shouldn’t do; it doesn’t stop me. There’s a lot I don’t understand. There are so many reasons to take the hand of retreat rather than the hand of risk, that offers both glory and defeat.
I have shelves of unsold screenplays and TV dramas, short films scripts (two produced) … yeh, yeh … a book, finished, that stumbled before its first print run. And notes, obsessive notes. Research on blind artists, trench warfare, obscure asthma cures …
I began two novels in January 2001: ‘The Time Telescope’ a kids adventure story based on the premise of a telescope that sees through time and ‘Journey to Work’ (JTW). This working title now has 60,000 words in reasonable order; I pulled chapters out of old fils, off Zip discs and CDs. I could print it out, hold 130 pages of text. ‘The Time Telescope’ made it to a treatment. I found JTW more plaible, more grown up, more demanding. So I ran with it. This morning, after a two month break from the thing I picked up the painful work of editing and rewrites. Out goes ‘first preson’ narrative – that will be a few days drugery to fix; I’ll use the time to refamniliarise myself with the characters and narrative. Georgraphically I had the thing lurching from one corner of England to another – as I have done. It cannot, it needs a world that is more self-contained; it will be set entirely in the North East of England. This means a total rewrite of at least four core chapters that are currently set in the Cotswolds.
Why am I writing about ‘work’?
Because this will require some work. I use this diary as a log, a jourhnal, but also as a ‘writer’s journal’ and ‘dreamy diary.’ I fill it with erotica and porn when my fingers permit.