Well, I'm within grasping distance of finishing the WIP, or at least the latest draft. I've had to drastically rework so much of it it's really a first draft in places. But as the End gets closer so my metaphorical pen seems to get heavier and I find myself struggling to put words down. I don't know why this is. Part of me thinks, it's just weariness from working on it relentlessly for the best part of a year. Another part of me throws up the old paranoid doubts: the plot doesn't work, the characters are too thin and nobody's going to buy this pile of cack so why are you wasting your time when the sun is shining?
I won't know if any or all of that is true until I return to it later, but I want to finish it just so I can put it to one side and write something else. Funny how the grass is always greener when you're up against it. Usually by now I have another idea bubbling away but not this time; I want to choose a really special project so I'm taking my time over it. Rereading bits of John Truby's Anatomy of Story, he emphasises the importance of finding a project that has resonance on a personal level - a story you have to tell. The choice of what to write about is far more important than any other choice, and I think that's true. My stories all seem to have a common thread of isolation and self-delusion. Perhaps I'm trying to tell myself something?
