The past week has seen greater influence on my writing from writers that I have read. The only difference is I can see them in the writing. The dialogue and detail of Anne Rice, the imagination of Stoker, all these things have come out in the past week. I see them on the page, staring at me. I do not normally notice these things. This past week I have felt the dipping of the zone, I will look at the clock after what feels like ten minutes and find it has been forty-five minutes. These things are what I love about writing. When, as a writer you feel and breathe what is going on. The same way the reader would feel them.
I can feel them speaking, know when things are not going right. Still I push through until the end. Seeing the words on the page, the dialogue, the description, everything that makes the art of writing fun. Knowing when things are not flowing the way they should, and thinking to myself.I will have to change that in a rewrite. It is the small things like this that make the journey worth every second of being tired, staying up late to finish the chapter or when a new character pops in that, you had not planned on. The little things that rise from the page to say hello, here I am.
In the next couple of months, I plan to finish the new draft. Going over it with a fine toothcomb. Separating things that do not work, and the things that work beautifully. I understand that it is a long way off from publication, finding and agent, a publisher, editor and everything else that goes with it. I am now entering the void of writing that I have not been before. Breaking through to the next level. I have not been past the 40k mark before and I am looking forward to it. If for only it being a gradual progression and improvement of my writing.
Right now, I am enjoying running through the mud, finding out who I am and why I write the creatures I do. Back to the little bugs.
Come with me into the neon light and stay until the end,
P.s. Enjoy the music.