10,000 words in five days.
The Secret Order of the Literati is on its way.
Slotting in time between a hectic work schedule, but if I can just do that six more times I'll have the first instalment. I'm absolutely loving it. Two ideas that were previously explored in short stories have come together, breaching completely different genres, melding into one solid lump of inspiration.
It's fast-paced and action packed. I worried for a while about introducing too many characters too quickly, but I'm halfway through reading Cloud Atlas at the moment, and an avid fan of Game of Thrones. Perhaps in this technological age of short attention spans and multitasking, the idea of rapid character introduction isn't as upsetting as once we were taught it was. Perhaps people actively expect it nowadays, and can hop between characters like browsers hop between websites. I don't have a problem with it, so I'm sure there will be readers able to follow.
My gnawing doubt is whether I can keep this up over three books. There's a lot of intrigue and mystery involved at the beginning. I know the theme of the book, but I stop regularly to work out the plot. It's a game of tennis compared to Children of Lir's lawn bowls. Keeps me on my toes. Constantly switching direction and motive. Gone is the fear of having nothing to write.
But once you've done the big reveal, once the reader gets it and knows the deal, will my characters be strong enough to keep them hooked? When you write a long-haul novel, that's not really an issue, unless you're planning a sequel. You don't have to think that far ahead. With a trilogy it's beginning, middle, middle, middle, middle, middle, middle, middle, end. That's a lot of middle.
This is a new experience for me, and the only way to know if it'll work is to keep writing. I'm having ridiculous amounts of fun with it. The characters are more caricatures than anything I've written before. It's refreshing to be writing genre for a change, so far I haven't hit up Wiki once for any research material. When I consider the folders of notes that went into Rosy Hours, Angorichina and CoL, I wonder how I ever finished them. There is far less detail in this one - more dialogue, less descriptive. A small part of me flinches, thinking Is this literature? whilst my heart plays volleyball on the beach, rejoicing.
I don't know I will ever write anything like Rosy Hours again, but trying to replicate it isn't the way forward. Saying 'I've found my voice' and then speaking only in that voice is going to bore everybody, myself included. So, time to hit the road again and tour possibilities. Variety, life, spice of.