It's flat. It does nothing for me, nothing for the world. I was going to write the novel that changed the face of literature, that was going to finally bring all my 45 years of promise to fruition ... and this is the bullshit I turn out?
Look at this: I actually start it with a line about the weather. The weather! Sure, it can be changed, but isn't this emblematic of what a hollow, empty husk of a turd this is? Sixty thousand words, plus. I mean, seriously. How will I ever make anyone else read this, when I don't even want to read it?
That key second-act moment — the action that will compel Walt (my main character) and those around him to propel the story to its exciting end — I still don't have the details of this nailed down. And it's not for lack of trying; God knows I've free-written the hell out of that section of the book, spent countless hours thinking about it. But I have nothing to show for it. Nothing that I'd even show Zuzu's kindergarten class.
And what the hell is up with Walt, anyway? Has he no moral center? Has he no true character? I'd be better of having him sit on a couch and watch the Weather Channel for 75 or 80 pages than put him through the banal claptrap he slogs through via my pithy, insipid fingers.
I can remember where I was when I came up with the idea for this. How I knew at that instant that this could be a great novel for someone to write. Someone. At the time it didn't even occur to me that that someone might be me. Then a couple of months later, I came across the book for National Novel Writing Month, and I realized that I could do this. The book said I could!
And I believed that bullshit?
The thing is, the premise still makes a lot of sense to me. And okay, maybe I came up with a couple of good storytelling devices. Like the letters that the main character's mother writes to him, that he doesn't read (but the reader does), which lay out what's unfolding at North Center while he's away. I like the way that the letters are presented to the reader in Walt's present, but they are actually taking place in the distant path, since the letters took so long to reach him. It's a different take on time-shifting that I can't recall having seen before, and it's not terribly confusing like some time-shifting schticks can be.
And I like the concept for Walt's dad's business; it's a fresh take on an old fairy tale that actually provides the novel with a moral center, even if Walt himself seems to be devoid of that quality.
And emissaries! What a concept! What execution! What inspiration! Okay, I'll pat myself on the back for the whole emissary thing. With a little more work, that piece could really work out.
So, fine. There's something redeeming here. But the crap is ... really crap. Crappity crap crap. That can't be salvaged. No way, no how. If I'm honest, maybe a third of this is worth keeping.
Hey. A whole third might be worth keeping. Well, that's something. I could work with that. And maybe it wouldn't be so hard to change the relationship between Walt and Sherry. So that, you know, one could believe she'd actually tolerate being in his presence for more than five minutes, much less introduce him to her daughter. And sleep with him.
Oh yeah. The sex scene. Ohmygod. That's gotta go. That's gotta be re-done. Note to self: look up definition of "subtlety."
Sherry's a great character, a strong woman. Her daughter is amazing — a blend of Zuzu and Piper, of course. So they're worth working on more. I can definitely fine-tune them. I even think I know how to do it.
And the scene on the lake ... I was thinking in the shower the other day how I could really make that resonate through the rest of the story. That really is a turning point in the book, and I can see how I can really use it as a launching pad into Part 2 in a compelling way.
And oh man, when I think about it, I can't wait to write the scenes with Walt and his dad! I mean, I've freewritten a couple of those moments, but this is gonna be really fun when I get into the nitty-gritty.
Yeah. Yeah, that's the thing. I want to get into the nitty-gritty. I want to get into the rewriting. That's where it really gets good. Crafting a sentence. It's such a fulfilling task.
So, fine. I'll stick with this. I'll finish the scenes that bridge the sections already written. I'll get that Shitty First Draft™ done after all. And then when I really dig in deep ... that's when I'll start finding the sculpture in this hunk of stone. That's when the critically acclaimed work comes to past!
And you will all revel in my greatness. See? I knew all along that this is a work of genius.
