16.01.15 (Day 389)
15.42
I've reached an impasse with the book. It's going well. Really well. But I need to take a break from writing whilst thinking. Or rather, I need to write while not thinking too much about it. So I'm not thinking too much about what I'm writing: I'm just getting it down, in writing.
The Paradoxicon is going very well indeed. I've written almost 20,000 words; 21 chapters; 51 pages. I'm about one third of the way there. The book is flowing. I know where it needs to go and I know how it will end. I just have a little bit of a literary hurdle to overcome in order to move the story. I've thought about it and I'm pretty sure of how to do it but right now, a break. My main means of expression is via the medium of writing, so my break from writing is being spent writing. Writing the blog though requires far less concentration than writing the book.
I'm back at my makeshift writing desk with Little Blue MkII, having spent a very agreeable part of the afternoon with one of my young friends. This particular friend is affectionately known as the fold-up one. Unlike some of the others, she's not forbidden from associating with me but as with most of the others, to the casual observer, our presence together may appear inappropriate, purely based on the age difference. As I've said before, anyone who thinks like that, thinks that way because the thought has crossed their mind. They're wrong and not us.
The fold-up one has been helping me with The Paradoxicon. She has taken it upon herself to not only read the book as it's being written but to also provide me with feedback by way of annotation. Her input is invaluable. I value her opinion on my writing as I value her as a friend. She is intelligent, insightful and honest: just what I need. Apparently she showed my work in progress to a teacher - my friend is school age - who exclaimed, "Bloody hell..." in a positive way. I hardly dare admit it but with this and other feedback I'm getting, the book is going to be good.
Few have bothered to ask for a reading pass, so not many people have read what's been written so far. As one of my readers who did ask for a pass commented to me, "Their loss". If people aren't interested, I give less than a fuck which can fly.
The most valuable input has come from my fold-up literary agent and it's appreciated. We've grown closer through our discussions of the book and the content therein; content which challenges inquisitive minds like mine and hers. The finished book will be deep and wide-ranging.
I think I know where to go next. My fold-up thing probably has ideas too. Great minds think alike, so we'll see if I've got it right. I wish she was here all the time so that I could check but I've done okay so far, so I shall carry on with the story.
I'm not entirely sure where the next chapter in the story of my life might go. I've done all that I can to further things and the one person I really need to speak to is the one I can't get hold of and who I'm waiting for a call from. If I knew certain things, certain others would take care of themselves. They know who they are.
It's a catch-22 situation.
I'm off to write Chapter 22 of my book.
15.42
I've reached an impasse with the book. It's going well. Really well. But I need to take a break from writing whilst thinking. Or rather, I need to write while not thinking too much about it. So I'm not thinking too much about what I'm writing: I'm just getting it down, in writing.
The Paradoxicon is going very well indeed. I've written almost 20,000 words; 21 chapters; 51 pages. I'm about one third of the way there. The book is flowing. I know where it needs to go and I know how it will end. I just have a little bit of a literary hurdle to overcome in order to move the story. I've thought about it and I'm pretty sure of how to do it but right now, a break. My main means of expression is via the medium of writing, so my break from writing is being spent writing. Writing the blog though requires far less concentration than writing the book.
I'm back at my makeshift writing desk with Little Blue MkII, having spent a very agreeable part of the afternoon with one of my young friends. This particular friend is affectionately known as the fold-up one. Unlike some of the others, she's not forbidden from associating with me but as with most of the others, to the casual observer, our presence together may appear inappropriate, purely based on the age difference. As I've said before, anyone who thinks like that, thinks that way because the thought has crossed their mind. They're wrong and not us.
The fold-up one has been helping me with The Paradoxicon. She has taken it upon herself to not only read the book as it's being written but to also provide me with feedback by way of annotation. Her input is invaluable. I value her opinion on my writing as I value her as a friend. She is intelligent, insightful and honest: just what I need. Apparently she showed my work in progress to a teacher - my friend is school age - who exclaimed, "Bloody hell..." in a positive way. I hardly dare admit it but with this and other feedback I'm getting, the book is going to be good.
Few have bothered to ask for a reading pass, so not many people have read what's been written so far. As one of my readers who did ask for a pass commented to me, "Their loss". If people aren't interested, I give less than a fuck which can fly.
The most valuable input has come from my fold-up literary agent and it's appreciated. We've grown closer through our discussions of the book and the content therein; content which challenges inquisitive minds like mine and hers. The finished book will be deep and wide-ranging.
I think I know where to go next. My fold-up thing probably has ideas too. Great minds think alike, so we'll see if I've got it right. I wish she was here all the time so that I could check but I've done okay so far, so I shall carry on with the story.
I'm not entirely sure where the next chapter in the story of my life might go. I've done all that I can to further things and the one person I really need to speak to is the one I can't get hold of and who I'm waiting for a call from. If I knew certain things, certain others would take care of themselves. They know who they are.
It's a catch-22 situation.
I'm off to write Chapter 22 of my book.
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