#Meanwhile… Strong Writing Made Easier

Starting today, I’m going to be devoting Fridays to fellow bloggers I discover on these here internetz. You may not believe it, but sometimes other people have already said it better than me – yup. I know.

So, strap yourselves in, you writerly, readerly bastards, for here’s the first instalment of my #Meanwhile series…

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Writer progress: I am no longer a slush puppy!

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been sending short stories out to magazines this year, in the hope of building up a portfolio of credits, not to mention to validate my assertion that “I am a writer”.

You may remember my frustration at receiving so many rejections. But what are rejections, if not slightly painful stabs of encouragement? Rejections are just psychologically damaging bullets of motivation, right? Sure, they hurt, but they drive you to improve.

This is shit – try harder.

Stop sending trash – learn to write.

What the fuck is this? – Go back to school.

REJECTIONS ARE GREAT, SEE?

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The final Act, and the temptation to flee

Writing is like a salsa; for as many steps forward you make, there are as many back, but every once in a while you get to do a spin or a flourish, and those stay with you. They’re the good bits.So it is with me; I bear good news, with bad news, but my catalogue of narrative pirouettes thankfully continues to grow.

The good news? I’ve reached the final act of my novel, Citadel. It’s taken a long time to get to this point, a lot of forward motion, but with almost as much backtracking. Aside from a manuscript of around 105,000 words, I have documents of cut scenes and entire plot lines that amount to 80,000 words. That is a staggering amount of editing. And it sounds like a colossal waste of time, right? Still: FINAL ACT people. That is good news.

The bad news is I’m finding it difficult to wrap it up. I’ve escalated the peril to such a degree, all seems lost, as it should by the end of Act 4. But closing it out and reaching a neat conclusion is proving a challenge.

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Head hopping – that most derided of narrative blunders

When I was about six years old, one thing scared me above all others – watching my brother play Aliens on the Commodore 64. It was terrifying, and I remember it vividly to this day. Sure, the graphics don’t exactly cut the mustard these days, but in 1988, it was the stuff of nightmares.

Two things about that game got me hiding behind furniture. The first was the sound of the motion tracker beeping quietly when an alien was nearby, rising to a continuous klaxon when one was in sight, as my brother panicked to move the cross-hair over the attacking monster.

But whenever I mustered the courage to have a go myself, it was the game’s central mechanic that got my skin tingling with fear. The player takes control of Ripley and the marines Hicks, Gorman, Vasquez, as well as the android Bishop and heartless corporate stooge Burke, all at the same time. Not that the characters had specific traits. They were just conduits for terror.

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