In my last post I declared that I had decided to write a novel. And now I thought I write an update on my progress.
I wrote first 10,
then 20 thousand words
and the it slowed down a bit
but I pushed on and the story became really alive and the next 10 thousand words became really enjoyable and the story took some surprising turns and the plot started to thicken and then disaster struck.
I lost a lot of what I had written because I managed to delete the working file by accident. I was thrown right back to 12 000 words and only the skeleton of a story outline left in my list of chapters.
And I sobbed, I really did, big crocodile tears, I cried like I haven’t in a long time.
I’m amazed these kind of things still happen with all the smart applications and computerizations we have these days I still managed to loose the bulk of the book I had started to write. But it was only words on a computer. And I’m not ashamed over the wailing noises I made, they might seem a bit dramatic to an outsider, but that night, that I could not retrieve my work from the inner workings of my hard drive, I had a massive sense of loss and just felt kicked in the butt by this universal force out there that seems to have taken a liking to tripping me up in the last couple of years… I’m ok with it now. I mean, it’s not that I don’t know the author. And I know the story very, very well. And I’m confident my second version will be as good as the first. Writing a book is something I’ve wanted to attempt for a long time and now I’m in the process of doing it. And by making a pledge right here, right now to complete it, I can’t back out. I will write the book and I want to have my first draft finished by Christmas. I am aiming to hit 35000 words by the end of month. I will write, tonight, tomorrow, and the days after that because it’s what I still can do, and NOBODY can take this away from me.
I read a book over the last couple of days (I couldn’t write at my computer for various reasons so I busied myself reading) and I finished the book a few minutes ago and I was so annoyed when I had finally read the last page because I found it repulsive. And it’s the third one in a row now that I’m reading that left this same kind of feeling in me. Why?
Because the book didn’t have a happy ending. I read 530 odd pages of misery, hope, love, hurt, disappointment, hope again, more hurt, more pain, more disappointment just to get to the end and find it’s all just pain, pain and more pain. And I’m sorry but what’s the f*** point. I mean life is really, really tough, how can anybody find it entertaining to jump into the pain pit of another life story just to discover that all the hope for a solution and happy ending is going to be smashed. I mean who reads this crap? People who’ve never had a worry in their life who are engaged in trivia? I’m not trying to offend, please, don’t get me wrong, but am I missing something here? Is there an entertainment value in reading peoples sadness and hopelessness? I for my part think books should offer solutions, real solutions some kind of personal victory, achievement, resolution. Some basic model of protagonist meets challenge gets floored, gets up and either finds peace with having lost or walks away with victory. PERIOD.
I’m not writing to leave people with a smashed world of misery, not in my book, not here on my blog nor anywhere else. I like happy endings. Maybe that doesn’t mean – and they all lived happily ever after- surely not. But I hope for peace and that all the fictional characters find some kind of answer. And that’s not just in books but everywhere I go. I know life isn’t like that out there, I’ve learnt that from experience. Trust me and I know there are millions of people out there who have it a lot, lot worse than me and anybody that I know and their story needs to be heard, for sure. But when I for my part read a work of fiction or now that I’m writing I want the reader to be left with the idea that there is some hope and happiness to be found somewhere and it’s not left to your own imagination to spin the crappy ending around and say, well then this character have done this and then that and they overcame the misery the author ended the book with.
I know life can be sh*t. And I’ve spent months digging myself out of various holes. I’m sorry I wasted 3 days on reading a book that just turned into a dead end. I don’t think dead end books are worth much, maybe to people who have no worries or real problems, well good for them.
To all the real life people who might read this, I wish you all happiness and hope and lots and lots of personal victories and that you find inspiration and positive energy in the people you meet, the projects you engage in and the books you read.
Here the 1984 version I found, real vintage stuff, he is soooo young!!
And also a better audio version of the same song now:
Music: Elton John
Lyrics: Bernie Taupin
And did you think this fool could never win
Well look at me, I’m coming back again
I got a taste of love in a simple way
And if you need to know while I’m still standing
you just fade away
Don’t you know I’m still standing
better than I ever did
Looking like a true survivor,
feeling like a little kid
I’m still standing after all this time
Picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind