I have never had so much trouble or difficulty with a story as I do with Rome. Rome has been nothing but trouble, trouble, trouble every step of the way. From struggling to write things while trying to do research at the same time to make sure I knew what I was writing about, to problems like I’m having now.
I know my ending, every scene from now to conclusion, but the further I get into actually writing it, the less I realize all of these scenes have to say, the less interested I am in the ending. I just sat down and tried to outline each scene from now to the end, just giving a line of what the scene’s are about and even outlining them left me going “Ugh…these are not good. How boring.”
If it were short stories, or a serial, it would work, and if there were problems, I would know the shape of scenes which could fix them. I’m not sure why the skills of one medium can’t be carried over comfortably to the other.
Or rather, carried over to this project. I can already see where my serial skills are appearing in my research and outlining-ish work for The Nondescript. That novel’s been a breeze to figure out, and it already has the feel of a work that’ll be a dream to write. It also grows longer as I realize I have more and more stories to tell in the shape of the novel. I’m really looking forward to it.
Really looking forward to it doesn’t make it any easier to work on Rome, though. When given a choice between slogging through mud (probably full of leeches) or frolicking in the tulips, most people know which one they would choose. (In my case, I would try to stride manfully through the tulips, for the look of things. So we’re clear.)
And that’s my rant for the day. How are you?
