I revisited my unfinished novel over the Christmas break, and decided to have a bash at picking up where I left off.
This book has been going for 6 years now on and off, mostly off, and I'm about a third of the way through. Sometimes it feels amatuerish and I cringe at my dreadful attempts at dialogue and plot, sometimes I'm happy with it and I'm unashamed to admit I laugh at my own brilliance. At the moment I think vast tracts need to be re-written, but I'm going to plough on to finish a first draft. Once done I will edit it, re-write the bits I'm not happy with then I'll get on to publishers and demand a 7 figure deal, blue smarties on a gold platter for my hip-hop dancer entourage and a helicopter piloted by an albino midget.
Really I should go on a creative writing course, as my style and grammar are appalling, and more importantly I don't want to scare any grannies with my monstrous over the top nonsense. Also, I don't want to water down my style, it needs to remain informal and shittily (is that even a word) written to maintain my integrity.
Unfortunately my characters are very hard to relate to, and I don't want to unleash them on a normal creative writing group. This is something I have to do alone. Personally I'm fond of the social misfits and freaks I'm building up. Like Big-Macs, my characters are complex and multi-layered, bread, meat, bread and lettuce leaf, then meat again, and more bread and if you squeeze one, you might see sauce and perhaps a diced onion. I would describe this novel as McDonalds for the mind... make of that what you will.
What pisses me off is having to research things, so today I needed to learn about Imperial German spiked helmets from the first world war. What a waste of half an hour I could have been writing vitriolic filth.
Of course I could make it all up, but I feel these minor points might be significant to some of my future readership. Eg - what if the Prussian eagle insignia was facing the wrong way? I would be ridiculed for this most elementary error and not taken seriously.
I'm not asking for a lot, as well as the smarties (blue), gold platters, massuers all I ask is that I am recognised as an esteemed british writer, like maybe Ashley Cole or Jade Goody. Oh, and I'd like some money, film spin offs, champagne, invites to celeb parties, photo shoots with Hello magazine and poseable toy action figures of myself (nothing to do with the film or book, I'd just like to play with myself if you'd pardon the expression).
Unfortunately, my book may never see the light of day.
1. Because this current enthusiasm is probably a whim, and I will return to waste my life playing "Football manager 2007".
2. The book is probably shite, and I will cry if people hate it. I can't take criticism easily, not even constructive! So don't you dare give my poseable action figure a double chin or a pot-belly you bastard toy manufacturers!