Thursday, 30 January 2014

Writing a Novel but Slowly

I love writing stories and I find longer ones, novels or novellas more satisfying, but it does take me a long time. My last one “Slurry” was published as an e-book in 2012 but I had been working on it, off and on, from 2007.(You can find it here: Slurry Web Site)


My current novel, “Terminal One”, was started in approximately 2010. I say 'approximately' because pinning down the true beginning of a story is a bit like finding the source of a river.

Anyway, “Terminal One” now has a beginning, an end, a structure of eighteen chapters, and forty-something thousand words. So all I have to do now is knock it into shape and fill in the gaps...

It begins as follows:
It took only 90 seconds from weaving down the pavement singing ‘Running Bear’, at top volume but in the wrong key, to being pinned up against a lamp post with life petering out to the sound of sirens. There was no pain but the angle from which he could see his feet was unprecedented. Thoughts came at random but none of them were good. Shards of milky bone like stalagmites, strangely gleaming in an unexpected light, frothing with scarlet life, darkening on meeting the air.

Screams un-screamed, dreams undreamed, precious youth leaking and spilling on to the pavement.

How to waste a life in a trice. A life full of promise, a life full of love, a life full life. Vibrant, fit and full of hope. There couldn’t have been much in it. Six inches here and fifteen centimetres there. Small margins, large consequences. Some things happen despite their improbability. In fact it happens all the time but you only tend to notice when it leads to really bad shit. This had. Really bad shit.

You can read the whole of the first chapter here:Terminal One Chapter One

Chris Fewtrell

Moorside Writers

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