I finished my book!
I finished my book this morning, the Australia one – rewrote the end, finally found the right words after weeks, months of sitting at my laptop and writing things and then deleting them over and over until I finally go ‘PRICK!’ at myself and slam it shut. But now it’s done.
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking ‘Eh? Eh!? Dan only writes once a month these days, and even then it’s usually half-arsed’. Yes, friend, you are right. But I feel a smidgeon bit inspired today, and lo: words. Continue reading
I’ve always felt one of the surest signs of a writer in a rut is that they start writing about writing. Hi there, I’m Dan.
The book’s nearly done. 50,000 words and counting. It should be nicely rounded out and wrapped up by about 60,000 words if nothing goes wrong (which it definitely will). I mostly write from the State Victoria Library, far and away the most magnificent library I have ever come across, and a truly inspiring spot. However, when sitting in the cavernous domed hall, with green reading lands and oak tables and the hallowed quotes of literary greats carved into grand white marble plaques, it feels quite odd to be writing the kind of story I’m working on.
On any given moment, somebody gazing idly over my shoulder as I type may encounter any manner of situations; perhaps macabre, perverse, dizzying, ridiculous, or most often, all four at once. Well now, just for you -because I do so cherish you, you handsome devil you – here you are. Here lieth a collection of some of the most backward, bloated, bombastic and plain fucking bonkers passages I have found myself writing to date. You lucky thing.
I am reluctant to publish too much of my book-in-waiting for fear that it would spoil the twists and turns of the story, but at the same time… fuck it. Continue reading