Right, I’m stuck. My short story, Pipes, has now entered interminable territory.
What I’d hoped would be a sleek 4k – 4.5k effort has now spiralled out of control, with the real possibility I’ll end up with a random assortment of tenuously linked scenes, instead of a seamlessly integrated story with punch and verve.
How did it come to this?
Buggered if I know. I managed 350 odd words the night before last and while not a lot of words, they were reasonable quality words. But I was left with the impression that I was meandering along. I’ll do a post tonight about last night’s effort, which was a full scene, which only served to increase my impression that all I’m doing is writing scenes, not a story.
As someone memorably said on the internet, the first draft is the vomit stage, where you get it all out on the page, and then later try to salvage the situation. All isn’t quite lost et, and I’ve been here before with The Lighthouse, but unless inspiration strikes me shortly, the possibility that I’ll mangle a few more metaphors to describe this story is a very live prospect.