Today saw the most frustrating and uneven progress so far. This was the first day where, although in the end, I got the words out and done, I’m not sure how to fit all of them into the story.
Writing in this way is a bit like taking part in the world’s slowest most inexorable car chase. Every day you have to get words out and get drama out and get blood out but the most important thing is keep going. Because that word limit is always behind you.
What I’m beginning to realise, (and hopefully I’m going to end up with enough words in the ‘bank’ that I can do this) is there’s going to be a lot of editing here to work out where each bit, each scene and each day’s progress fits into the whole. Even though there is a natural sequence to the construction of the narrative, - and those who’ve suffered reading my work in progress stuff before will know this - there is a natural and quite elastic way the parts of these sequences can be split up, and re-ordered, to best suit the narrative.
It’s just not something you can do after four days. I’m way too close to it. I am right in the middle at the moment and have zero perspective on the thing as a whole. I can’t see the forest, but I’m planting lots of trees.
I guess after a week, or after two weeks, I’ll give myself a day or two of editing and re-ordering. As I have approached this project with no storyline or plan or written outline for the narrative whatsoever, i’m essentially doing this with no guide rope. No breadcrumb trail.
I could easily go down the wrong path at any moment, and not realise it’s the wrong path for another week.
Total Wordcount so far (after four days): 4,065
Daily Wordcount: 792
Anyway.
Today’s scenes consisted of quite a few abstract flashbacks. Exploring character’s memories. Some I felt worked better than others, but it seemed to live when I got around to Alex’s memories of his grandfather. I think he’s going to play a massive role in this story. Cast a big shadow.
Sample:
My mother referred to his flying and the Tiger itself as “bloody stupid show off waste of time”. To the rest of us it merely confirmed the rapidly growing picture and backstory of Michael as some modern day Indiana Jones type adventurer. A 1920’s storybook cutout, cast in Gin and Flanel, all cut glass English and Derring-Do.
This was, needless to say, a lie and an impression that Michael did nothing to correct, in fact he revelled in our quiet doorway bound awestruck observations of him. Revelled in, and greatly encouraged and inflated his role as our own legendary figure who’s deeds we would do well to emulate.
This is where the stories came in.
(Lowest so far, but still over target on aggregate. Must do better tommorow though.)