I like to read.

Dear Friend,

My life is a novel; an overdramatic romantic-tragedy-horror-action-mills&boon-cum-selfhelp(intheformofdon'tdothis) novel that absolutely no one should read. I write in it every day as I get up, and shower and have that familiar first cigarette of the day that makes me feel dizzy. I write in it as I make the familiar walk up Easter Road to uni, and then back down again. I write in it as I eat my dinner and download some music. I do all of that easily, just the litany of my life: the superfluous background setting on which I write the plot.

Writing the plot is the hardest part. The setting is easy: it's mostly predictable and fairly laid out in front of me. When it comes to the real writing, I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. I'm no writer, and I'm certainly no life planner. So I freewrite, and keep freewriting. I make up each sentence as I go along, little care on the specific connotations of the words I'm using and hope that the imagery comes out as I want it to.

It usually doesn't.

I can't stop though, because, well, you just can't. It's not allowed. Banned. Illegal. Whatever, by the powers of time that be. You have to keep writing this unknown plot into it every single day, even when you feel you can't write anymore. You have to make those words come out of you from somewhere and become reality on your page.  You need to keep writing in that chapter as long as you can, so that it never ends, or that it finishes and you can start afresh. Cliffhangers are not acceptable: they mean the previous chapter is unfinished and the new one not valid.


There are tons of chapters in my book. Some good, some bad, and some mediocre. There are chapters in my book (like yours) I've ripped out, and thrown away, ashamed of them and don't want anyone to read them - including myself. There are finished chapters that I can look back on, read through, analyse, and mentally correct if the plot should ever turn in that direction again. Then there are the few ones that I haven't actually finished.

Sometimes you'll have a chapter, where the plot and characters get out of control. It starts off great; but spins into a swirling vortex of entropy. You can't control it; you can't finish it. It's too messy to tie up, but it's too painful to keep it there. So you leave it, skip a few blank pages, and start a new one. These chapters are the unfinished ones that are allowed to be unfinished. I'm not finished with them, yet. I continue writing in my book, a new page, with fresh ink and falsely, impressively neat cursive that isn't really my own, and I put a post it where I left the previous plot line. Because one day, maybe, I'll get to go back and finish writing it, whatever that may turn out to be.

Recently, I've had one of those chapters. It got way out of control. I tried, and I tried, and I tried, but I couldn't bring the plot and the characters to order again. My imagery was way off, the setting was way off, and most importantly, my characters were a complete mess. I wanted to finish it and sort it out: I tried, but I really couldn't. Some aspects had to go. Some characters had to die. Some plotlines needed to be stifled. They were ruining the entire book asofar, and I needed to eliminate them. But I couldn't. So I put in my post it, turned the fresh new page and started writing a new chapter. The postit is bright red and it's staring me in the face; but now I don't need to stare it in the face every time I go to write. It's in the past: it's there, but it's gone. For now, at least. Maybe one day I'll get to conclude it.

So here's to my new chapter. Let's hope it's going to stay in control of itself.


Do you have any unfinished chapters? What's stopping you finishing them? Do you even want to?


lots of love


Sean

xxx