There is sincerely no feeling in the world like writing a story and knowing it’s good and when you are done it will be the best thing you ever wrote. That sound pretentious as hell, but it’s true. 90% of the time, the things I write are shit. It’s just fact. I can honestly say of the hundreds of stories I have wrote in my life, there are probably five or six good ones. Two of those are published, two are waiting to be polished before being sent out again and one is getting a name change and is getting sent out to a few places tonight.
Anyway, at the moment I’m working on a novel. I began writing it in November last year for NaNoWriMo and it was shit. Absolute shit. Like my brain vomited on a blank Word document. It started out as a story about two friends in post-WWI Germany who are trying to make a film. I was really, very depressed when I was writing it, so it was a very bleak story. It can probably be summed up as “life is horrible, your dreams will be crushed and the only person you’ve ever loved will betray you.”
A year and five drafts later, and it’s dark comedy, fantasy, post apocalyptic, violent story about werewolves. Not pussy werewolves either. The kind that eat people and stuff because FUCK YOU. Cool werewolves. If they were in high school, they’d probably wear sunglasses and not let you sit at their table.
I’m not really sure where the transition happened. I just know that for the first time since I’ve tried writing a novel, things are actually coming together. Important parts of the plot aren’t replaced with messages to myself that read “Dear Future Self: Hey Asshole, figure this shit out.” Characters are finally coming together. There aren’t glaring plot holes. The writing is actually good instead of monotonous. I’m so excited for where this will be by the 6th, 7th, 8th draft.