Slow slow going this last week and a bit. I am, I'm sorry to say, around 7,000 words behind where I wanted to be, and, even worse, I'm halfway through my Holidays already.
I'm at that tricky middle bit now and if a novel is basically in three parts (and I believe that, generally, this is true) then I am sticking a bit in Act Two: Waking. Not that the book is written in acts, nor do i have geet dramatic titles like that hoyed in the book. Just, well, if I'm going to talk about it (and I am, just so you know) then it's easier if I give it a name. So. Waking.
Much like in 99
87 the last third is the really pacey bit, that's the bit I really, really want to be writing. But I can't. Not yet.
I know Roz, being muchos muchos organised is able to pick a chapter she wants to write and do it, regardless of where it appears in the book, but I
can't do that. I'm not organised enough. And, to be honest, although I know the last line, the last image. Although I know the ending I do sort of feel that it only fair that I give my character a chance to escape their fate. It's unlikely. In fact, almost impossible, but you never know do you. One line and suddenly I can be writing a different story again.
See, Waking is a key section. I'm seeing some real changes in people now. The situation is getting heavier. The plot, if you'll allow me, is thickening. So, as painful as it is at the moment. As much as only getting 500 words so far today seems like a failed day it is, I know,the only way.
If I rush this now, the ending won't work. If I rush this now, I'll regret it later.
So. Bare with me please dear peoples, I know I'm blogging less and saying hello to almost no one but it's not because I don't love you, s'not because you've become less mint.
It's just been...
But hey. The best things are, yes?
And so, to prove my inability to organise I'll now move from "Getting Stuck In The Middle" to "Cutting My First Album."
A few months back Tonto Towers received an email inviting us (The Tonto Team. No. How about The Tonto Stable. No. No definitely not. Um.... The Writers Association of Tontobooks. Oh. No. That would make us T.W.A.T. Nevermind.) to record extract of our work and a quick interview for a new Website.
And yesterday I did.
And I got coffee and biscuits and sweets and water and juice and a lolly. I'll blog properly about the whole thing when the website is up and running but in the meantime visit Rachel's blog to have a read of the struggles and successes of setting up her new website.
And finally. And, for Twitters, the most important part of this, a geet long post designed to distract you from the fact that it's been geet ages since I blogged:
Reasons Why I'm Not Nick Jonas.
1. I do not look like this: For a start my hair is much better. And I'm old enough to shave (I don't very often, but I'm old enough to.)
2. I do not have either my own Disney Channel show, nor my own band. Largely because I cannot:
c) play an instrument
d) abide the idea of pulling up my collar in order to look like more rebellious.
3. I have never performed on Broadway.
4. I have never, despite the rumours, dated Miley Cyrus.
5. And most importantly. My name is spelt thus: Jones. Not Jonas.
And so, the half dozen young girls (and the two, slightly creepy older men) who have recently tried following me on Twitter, especially the two named "Ilovenickjonas" and "Jonasbrosrock" I say this unto you: