Novel land

Ah — novel land. I went to bed thinking about the novel last night. I woke up thinking about it. It has consumed me quickly this time, no faffing about, will I, won’t I fall into complete, utter obsession. Nope, just dove right in.

I think I have the whole novel plotted out. It feels like a novel in my head. I don’t know how else to explain it other than that. It just feels like a novel now.

All of the chapters need more flushing out, but the very vague outline is finished (and includes many “something brilliant happens here” points.) I don’t want to do any more plotting. I’m afraid I’ll over plot, which is what I think happened with the Japanese novel — too planned, not enough left to discover. The first novel in this trilogy had no plotting at all, and it didn’t matter because I wasn’t trying to pick up anything. (Although I always knew what those last few scenes looked like.) The second novel had to pick up a bunch of points, and plant a bunch of seeds, and wasn’t plotted enough. This novel, I feel like I have the right amount of plotting, not too much, not too little.

I’m really excited about this novel, about writing first draft again. I took myself out to another coffee shop this morning. As I was packing up I found myself thinking that I was going out to play. I can get this excited about rewriting, particularly when I’m in the middle of it. But I don’t anticipate rewriting, I don’t have as much joy, as I do writing first draft. Rewriting is satisfying, and I can really get into a groove with it, but it doesn’t make me go skipping out of the house.