|Posted on March 26, 2012 at 5:15 PM|
I see that almost exactly a year ago I was knocking down walls. Well, here I am now, with what I'm tentatively calling a 'finished novel.' I've sent it somewhere; I'm waiting. Actually, I'm not waiting. I'm sitting back with my feet on the desk, enjoying the peace. My novel is like a disruptive child with ADHD. Suddenly, after I've spent years being the sole carer, it's been whisked away to a holiday camp for the loud and over-energetic, and someone else has responsiblity. Just for a short while. It's respite only. But here is a hiatus during which I don't have to worry about it.
The book's got a new name, too, though I have no expectation of this title sticking. I'm not getting too attached. The book began life as 'Two-Thirds Happy.' This became 'And Then We'd Be Happy,' which lasted a while, till I realised that it didn't actually match the theme of the novel any more. And more problematically, that it used a song lyric and would thus cost me a fortune in copyright payments. Latterly it was 'The Solidest Thing We Know,' which wasterrific apart from me being the only person who liked it. Everyone else hated it and said it made them think of taking a crap.
The new title is fine. I won't jinx it by writing it anywhere except on the front cover of the manuscript. Which I have sent off, did I mention that?
* Sits back, puts feet on desk, lifts tea mug to lips, revels in the blissful silence *