I’m probably just tired. In fact I’m sure that’s the problem. Having a horrendously tight deadlines isn’t helping either. And the fact that the further into this I get the more I realise how many holes there are for the book I want to write and how little time there is to do the research I need to do.
Undertaking to turn around a book in six weeks (in reality a very short month) then needing to talk to people to fill in gaps during the month when the entire country has buggered off on holiday probably wasn’t the best idea anyway.
But I’ve committed to it now so I don’t have much choice. It’s a horrible feeling though, having worked so hard to get a publisher and wanting to be a writer for most of my life, when you realise that the first book with my name on it is going to be a rushed piece of trash churned out to satisfy the ghoulish curiosity of the general population. I know I shouldn’t be bothering to do any kind of analysis, there just isn’t time but I don’t know how to do it any other way.
I’m also trying to write this as best I can, I don’t want to produce something better pulped but in order to reach the word count the publisher’s have set I’m going to have to slip in so much filler that purple prose is going to be a distinct possibility. I always knew I wasn’t writing In Cold Blood but I never realised how tough it would be to stretch my rather succinct style of prose into something that’ll suit the market.
I keep telling myself that when this is done I’ll start work on something I can really value but this is the thing I’m working on now and I want to produce something I can at least not be ashamed of.
The problem is that in order to reach my quota I need to write at least two and a half thousand words a day, that’s about a thousand more than I’d usually write for fiction. I know there are writer’s who can do that but I find it excruciatingly difficult when every fact has to be checked against hundreds of pages of notes. Knowing that every one of my colleagues is going to at least flick through anything I publish doesn’t help – I’ve heard how they talk about the ones already in print.
I know I should be writing now but it’s just not working today. I knew it was never going to be easy but I never expected it to be this hard. Today every word feels like it’s been torn out of me and I just feel heart sick that it’s such a rush. This wasn’t how I expected working on my first published book to be. I know, I know, I’ve got a publisher, this book will be in print. I shouldn’t be moaning but it’s hard not to when you care about what you do this desperately.
I probably should have refused to agree on a deadline that didn’t include at least a couple of days off after the term we’ve had. I’ve been working without a day off for roughly the past two months and I’m shattered. I’m neck deep in the book at this stage as well so I’m dreaming about it as I do with any intense project. Doesn’t make for a good night’s sleep though.
Did I make a mistake agreeing to do this book? Is it going to do me more harm than good if I can’t write the book I want to? Am I so far up my own arse that there’s no hope left for me?
This is being a very bad day.
