I've decided on the next longform project this morning. I'm grizzly. It's 10 degrees outside. I want coffee cake but settled for a fat-free egg substitute omelet instead ("kissing one's sister food").
Nevertheless, the bright spot of the day besides accomplishing a little of the day job work has been deciding on the next novel's topic. I will write Despot Island. I've two incomplete drafts that have been impacted more by the fear of doing them poorly than by the desire to move forward as a writer.
Enough.
I'm strong enough in voice and confident enough in the broken characters I write to put this forward. I will do a good job, complete a draft, and ice the beast for next fall's big re-write. I'll start the outline in March, the composition in April, and conclude before July 4th. It's a first full draft instead of a rough. I have enough source material to fill the arcs and get this out there. I look for first full drafts to have something close to 75% of the story arcs I'll keep included. When my writing strengthens, I'll have 90% in there.
So, I know the project, some character sketches, some story arcs and sub-plots. I'm happy with this.
I've the current short to finish, another to write the rough and first full, and a third I want to re-write. I want to do some submission to a critique group this spring and that involves polishing, a task at which I've shown too little endurance in completing.
It's getting better. I see that. Work: seems to be a key, no? Work.
So, spurred by the discussion of the horrors of war crimes from Christina James at right, I'm going to write my piece on despots. A nicer bunch of villains you'll never meet. Hey, Last King of Scotland did well enough.
Never met Idi. A disappointment. Had a chance and didn't make it. Never let the opportunity to meet a despot pass by.
Write something. I'll write something despotic. Meet you on the other side.
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