I really, really, really love my first drafts. They are terrible in a way that puts them out of the dark fantasy genre and straight into the comedy section. It’s really like a kind of parody of any attempt at a story, ever.
Think I’m just being self-deprecating? Maybe I’m just being coy, maybe fishing for some compliments? No. Seriously. They’re bad. You’ve not seen bad like this.
“A painful sting of pain…” is an actual line from the draft of The Vampire’s Son I did for NaNoWriMo ’09. I’m sorry, but with literary masterpieces like that in the mix, why aren’t the publishers beating down my door? On the upside, at least I am acknowledging that it is bad. That’s a ray of light in itself.
So I have arrived home this evening, after spending a weekend at my friend’s house for a writer’s weekend. I continued working on the (new) first draft Divided They Fall, while she reviewed the NaNo draft of The Vampire’s Son. The majority of her comments were in mockery to my appalling attempts at first draft prose. I would attempt to defend myself, but I know they’re terrible. I’m not even sorry. Re-reading these things reminds me why I write; to entertain myself.
Anyway, hideous writing attempts aside, I still managed to spew out another few thousand words of the third book. I’m still enjoying it, it’s still trundling along quite happily with the plan I put in place when I started working on it in January. I haven’t come across anything yet that has cock blocked my creativity, and my stubby little fingers remain crossed that I won’t.
I will leave you with the favourite line we came across (so far; she has an entire book of this to read):
It was a strange ceiling. Not strange within itself, but simply one he did not recognise.
Now come on, admit it, you’re absolutely jealous of my purely amazing and unequalled writing ability, aren’t you?