I wrote last time that I was going to begin typing-up/rewriting the new novel this week.
Well, I didn’t do that.
But I’m not going to smash myself in the face over it, as despite me breaking my word it has been a productive week.
The edits came back on my short stories, and so I’ve been working on them most of the week. The six I’ve had edited have been made sharper and tighter and I’m really happy. It’s fantastic when you can genuinely see improvement.
One of the stories – my tale of the gothic – will be published imminently. While the others will appear in a collection in a couple of months’ time. That works to my advantage as one of the suggestions the editor made – and a thought which had already occurred to me – is that the four tales that at the moment comprise it are quite bleak when seen as a whole. So the suggestion was that I insert a couple of extra stories to break up that bleakness a bit.
So, as well as the edits, I’ve also written two more short stories this week. I’m going to say that they’re both lighter pieces, although since one centres on a man being buried alive, lightness is a relative term. So far I’m quite pleased with them, and they’re nearly done to a state where I can edit them and rework them, before I send them to the editor.
All that though will happen in between and around me working on the new book. Experience has taught me this week that I can do about a thousand words a lunchtime while sat in a café. Hopefully then, with evenings thrown in as well, I should see it swiftly take shape in front of me.
The book is not all I’m aiming for though. While I’m on my morning and evening train rides, I intend to actually write my Welsh story in my notepads.
If I take a step back and look at all I want/have to do, then it is extraordinarily daunting. I’m frankly amazed my hair isn’t getting whiter by the day. The thing is though, I’m relishing it.