I discovered this morning how disorganised I really am when a few authors responded to my post about Indie Interviews and I tried to email them back. It took me the best part of an hour to locate a notepad and write down their names, their books, who already had their questions and who were waiting for theirs, and now I’m going to plot the next chapter of my book to relax.
Which says a lot, since it isn’t relaxing in the slightest.
To say I finally understand why you hardly ever find mystery novels written in first person is an understatement. And I’ll never ever criticise detective shows on their plots again because it’s so bloody hard planning it out and finding motives and clues and keeping the story moving.
On the plus side, I reached 20k words over the weekend, and I can almost imagine myself writing the end, so that’s added a bit of extra motivation. I never thought it would have taken me this long to write the sequel to The Game Begins, or that I’d write so many starts and never finish them.
All the unfinished drafts probably add up to my 80k limit, or more, knowing my luck.
I’m trying to remain positive about them about them, though, and telling myself that writer’s block just means I haven’t had the right idea yet.