So I wrote my fifty thousand words and I'm still going. I'm a big winner, hooray, but my book isn't really done yet. I shopped it to a possible publisher, but it wasn't straight enough for them. And by "straight" I do not mean "opposite of gay." I mean "opposite of funny." I hadn't realized that it was funny, really. It was just how I view life in a lot of ways, which, upon reflection, probably seems funny to most folk. So now I'm in the plotplotplot part leading up to the climax and resolution. The novel before this has been a much more leisurely thing, episodic even. But the main plot has too much momentum now, and it must keep rolling.
I've always been least comfortable with plot. Its rules and regulations seemed so arbitrary and annoying. Also, it's my weakest point. I can do characters, dialogue, mood, humor, whatever. But plots are hard to come by for me. So I have a plot and I have to play it through now. It's kind of weird, though. It seems to be pulling the book in a weird direction I didn't originally intend. I didn't know the ending when I started writing, I thought I'd follow Chris Ware's advice with that. Well, it was subconsciously following it. I just wanted to write and see if I could actually do it. I mostly have, I guess, but I do need to finish it. Lulu.com will print me a free copy if I have it done and edited by January 16th, and after that I'd like to actually sell copies via the internet.
Anyway, the ending. There seems to be a magnetic or gravitic pull for this story leading it to a tonal shift. I feel like the ending that's coming up is going to be more outlandish than the rest of the book, and I'm not sure if that's what it needs to be. It could be fun and perfectly pulpy. But it could also be that lifetime wasted reading genre comics that's hardwired my brain to only be "creative" within certain contexts. Ah, well, we'll see. Writing this is just an excuse not to write the book for a bit. Back to the mill.
