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| Copyright © Mark R Kelly 2025 |
I'll hold my hands up and admit, it's my fault. Not much of a planner, as the majority of what I write flies straight off the top of my head, pumped out by my imagination.
Already I'm aware I have wires crossed regarding certain plot tags, locations and character traits. And that's the 'kicking' I'm receiving. Basically, I'm being taught a valuable lesson in the writing process as a whole. It's as if I've been trying to scratch my nose with my elbow, and someone ambles up, takes my hand and places it to my nose.
Duh.
To that end, I have to rein in my impatience, breathe, and plan ahead more than I have been. I made the mistake of allowing myself to picture a ticking clock, one that represents the remaining years of my life versus the time it (apparently) takes to write a first draft, re-write that into a second, then a third, maybe a fourth, and possibly fifth draft - and who the fuck knows, keep going until it's polished and gleaming brighter than a snooker ball. Maybe you see the pit into which I've fallen.
Pretty dull, huh? I think the issue here is the story, in its own way, is controlling me. My task now is to flip it onto its back and take control once more.
That's the funny thing about writing - and by that I don't mean laugh out loud 'funny' - is when you first set out it's like a new relationship. Both parties are tentative, polite, slightly shy and awkward. But as the days turn into weeks and you both find your rhythm the relationship evolves. You find out things that turn your smiles into frowns. The flow becomes less smooth, maybe a little bumpy. And the first angry words fly out. The atmosphere changes, and you both sit staring at each other, neither willing to give in. The more you push, the less progress is made.
What you, the writer, don't realise is that the story has a different idea, and characters have been stewing, listless and brooding, waiting for their moment. That's when it happens - you're taken by the proverbial hand by your character, all smiles, and before you know it you're shit-deep in a situation you have no plans for.
I'm not saying it's a bad place to be, but there are only two options - you either embrace it and go with the flow, or you wade your way through the shit and re-group, assess, consult what framework you may have done, and hope to whatever belief system you tether your rope to, that you can back-track, edit and re-work the story without losing too much.
That is so disheartening as a process for any writer, but for the novice it's that hard slap across the back of the head by your High School English teacher for dozing off during a lesson.
It's not all doom and gloom. Honestly. The rewards are great, and silent, shared only between you and your writing medium. Sometimes it will be in the form of laughter escaping unbidden from your lips. At times it might be the welling up of tears for a piece so well crafted in emotion, there's nothing you can do but let them fall. And then there is that moment you quietly mutter, "Fuck! YES!" fists clenched in celebration of the alchemy of words laid before you as they escaped from mind to page.
That's why I write.
I leave you with the unique sound (and voice) of Nine Inch Nails - "Something I Can Never Have".
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