So, I’m finished even sooner than I thought.
Today, I went and bought ink and paper, and for the first time printed off the whole story, turning the novel from an idea into something physical, tangible, and real-feeling. This was in itself a curiously erotic, arousing, feeling as I saw the paper with page after page of my writing – my story – spooling out onto the tray. 76,100 words. 300+ sheets of A4 paper. But, 300+ pages, the top one of which has my name on it, and the title (working title) of the novel.
As I wrote in the earlier post, it took me 9 years to finish from initial concept through to the 2nd draft printout. This is an astonishing achievement. There are so few big projects I have actually seen through to a finish and, while this still isn’t the finish, it is a product: an actual payoff from the work. Something I can show others. Something I can point to and say, “I did this.”
Curiously, last night I had another of my abandonment nightmares, but this time the story didn’t end with the sickening, awful feeling of being helpless. This time, there was a continuation in which new people, strangers, welcomed and accepted me even though they probably didn’t have to, and new stability from unexpected sources.
I doubt there’s a connection between the two. As far as the novel is concerned, there’s still a whole lot of uncertainty about what is going to happen, what changes I might need to make, and what impact it will have. There’s the challenge of finding the next story to write (will it be one of the ideas floating around, or something new? Will I attempt two projects at once, in different styles? I don’t know yet).
And right now, all I want is to find some British kinky folks, preferably some of them bi or lesbian, who’ll take a look and let me know what I doesn’t ring true.