I finished up May 5 & The Assassin last week, and re-read the last two episodes the other day. So, for all intents and purposes, I’m ready to move on to creating a new world, new characters, a new narrative and finished a new book. I have the world (60%), the first — and possibly main — two characters, the plot and a storyline, and a few bits in-between (inner struggle, drive, secrets etc). I’ve already written three scenes and sufficiently developed my protagonist, but a question looming that I hadn’t really paid much attention to was that of: am I writing as me, or as someone I want to be?
An open-ended question, I know, with more than one answer. I’m not talking emulating authors I admire, but in getting down the image I have in my head onto the page, and getting it right. Let me explain (even if only to myself for self-clarification)…
I wrote the first scene of Only Shadows Ahead and posted it online for a week. I’m pretty sure no-one read it — which raises concerns over why my Google Analytics lists my daily views as zero for over a month. Sad? Fuck yes, but suspiciously void considering previous monthly accounts.
Anyway, back on topic. If anybody had read that piece they may have highlighted an issue my wife often points out, and that’s a constant problem I have with my writing style. See, I write in a manner that lends itself to sounding a bit melodramatic, perhaps even pompous — as if I’m trying to nail every sentence as a poem or ode (not my words, swallow that, ego). I don’t mean too, but I do get stuck on sentences sometimes and go over them until they’re right instead of just… writing. It’s also not something I try to do, I just end up writing a lot of my stuff like that.
What makes this an issue for me, and not just an opinion I can ignore, is that to a good degree, I do agree. I re-read and wonder why it sounds so serious, why the main character is written in such a straight manner; no creases. I see and hear and imagine an idea of this man in my head; the ways he might deal with new circumstances, then when I go to put it down he turns into Bowie and Changes on me.
…you can imagine how I feel, this sounds very berserk. I sound like Karl Pilkinton; “Do I control my brain, or does it control me?”
I’ve been following a lot of aspiring and established writers on twitter and through blogs this year, trying to get back on top of the community I managed to estrange myself from because I suck. Everyone seems to have their style nailed, and I have to wonder if they went through similar issues, or whether it’s a typical thing I’m just procrastinating about instead of WRITING - this is the voice of my supportive wife, who gives me way more credit than I am due.
So, this is where I am at. I’m approaching my first three scenes and thinking I should re-write them, be more casual and loyal to me and not try to live up to this false idol of what my writing is supposed to be like to get any interest. Off… I… go…




