Reasonably successful start. But it's only Chapter 1, which I'd rewritten to pieces anyway. It's extraordinary how, going back to it yesterday, after about a month away, I managed to find so much to change/delete.
Writing novels is about bouncing between the big structure/story/character picture and the tiny comma versus full stop picture. Mine, at the moment, has become so tiny it's almost abstract. I'm taking each printed page in isolation and studying it. If anything even hints at a jolt or a jar, it's out, if any tiny phrase can be simplified, it's simplified. Then I type up the corrections for that page, reprint and put it in the folder. Why didn't I do this last time? I think the last fine-edit was more to do with the flow and rhythm. I only have to do this another 256 times and I'm done.
The internetless old computer strategy is working, almost. 2 games of Free Cell and a quick dive downstairs to check e-mails just the once.
Am considering dropping Big Brother and disappearing up to my room for the hour. Last night was such total rubbish. I couldn't understand the mass Jackiey adoration after she'd been so evil to Shilpa, and now, it seems, pathetic Jack is going to take over the bullying. The show has got me cooking macrobiotic again, though, after I looked up Dirk Benedict's
book, and last night made an old favourite from my Practically Macrobiotic Cookbook, wholegrain rice salad with melon, apple, celery, carrot dressed with apple juice. Yum. Just had it for lunch too. So Big Brother can be good for you. I doubt I'll be able to stay away from the gloating if companion to the Beatles and the Stones Leo goes tonight, either. Whoa! He's gone already. What a shambles.
Bye bye, thanks for visiting, come again soon.