Novel Issues

 Level Four Lockdown: Day Forty-Five

Curfew. 9 p.m 

Mood: 

Black and White Photo Challenge: Day Sixteen

Last night's school was bittersweet for a number of reasons. Firstly, there are only two more classes left - okay two and a half if you count the session we have on Sunday where we get to listen to Carrie talk to Lloyd Jones on Sunday as a special session (In Melbourne, we didn't get to talk to Mark Haddon of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night fame, like the Sydney mob)

We also got to pitch our novels to the chief publisher of Queensland University Press - which was incredibly daunting. But it was done. We're pitching to a literary agent next week, so we have to do it all again.  Well, we've done it once, the worst is over.  

But what was really good last night was the workshopping we did after the pitches. I'd handed over 2000 words to the class on Sunday, apologising for the first draft nature of the piece. It was a critical scene. The first time my protagonist has an appointment with her end of life provider. 

Remembering that I'm writing about Melbourne in 2025, where the government are authoritarian and things are a bit different, like they're converting the Scot's Church into appartments and the Regent Theatre into a casino, it's a real flight of fancy.

But my piece got my classmates questioning me about the world I was building - and it's stuff that I need to get out there, but how is it is done is the problem. 

So I walked away from class with the following dilemmas:

1. My end of life facilitation company is possibly too low end. How do I show a mid-level company - or do I make them really low rent. 
2. My end-of- life consultant is too young. Been told to stop youth bashing (I wasn't - honest). And okay, I was channelling Uriah Heep, but yeah, I get the point. 
3. The office needs other posters. I have to temper the place. 
4. I have to get rid of the tacky poster on the wall which reads, "Slavery: It gets shit done."
5. I have to put in more about what is going on in the early days - my classmates can't fathom how we would let an authoritarian goverment take over like this . Mind you, we've let the government let refugees rot on Manus and Nauru for seven years - I say we do this already. 
6. How do you get the fact that death is mandated if you don't have the money to keep yourself?
7. And why is my protagonist being so compliant about this?

They're big questions which I have to answer. I'm not sure how this will be done. 

Things I do know:

• I've got a heap of rewriting to do. 
• I need a scene showing what happened - but it can't be too info-dumpy. 
• I need to age up the Uriah Heep character - who's name is Zeke De Costa - maybe he should be a Trevor or a Russell.
• I have to work on the end-of-life place, work out where it really is - and flesh out the whole scenario more.
• And rewrite the first part of the novel to make all of this fit in.

Fun, she says. Fun. 

This novel writing lark is a marathon, I tell you. A marathon.

Right, back to it. 

Today's Song: