The other day I finished the first draft on that second novel I had been writing for the past months. It is very interesting to see, how, when I finally reached the end, I didn’t feel like I accomplished anything.
A first draft is nothing more but word vomit to tell yourself the story, at least that’s what it is for me. And this novel has quite the short first draft to begin with – around 60k, half of it handwritten. Still, I hoped that with finishing it I’d have a feeling of, dunno, fulfillment? Accomplishment? It’s another novel dammit.
Yeah, right. No.
I’ve started revising that thing, transferring the first half from my notebook to my scrivener document and it’s much harder than I imagined. I can’t word. I can’t English. Suddenly sentences don’t consist from words but from birds and I can’t catch them. I can’t even see them as they’re flying around, throwing feathers at me without sitting still for me to capture them and put them back in the story. Worldbuilding, small parts of scenes that were left out in the first draft, changes and whatnot, they are all there mocking me. #assholes
But you know what, I don’t care. I’ll finish that revision because it needs finishing and because I have to, if I want to call this thing a book. Most of all, though, I want to.
So, to the first chapter that is currently beating the crap out of me:
PS: it helps that I have awesome and very supportive friends. I don’t know what I’d do without them. <3