Yesterday, I went through my monthly installment of frustration. I thought that my book was useless, and no one would read it. I got myself depressed, and vague thoughts of throwing the remote on the TV didn't help soothe much. It started with one chapter, which I thought was forced on the characters. Then it just got worse. My characters are not good enough. My background is not good enough. This is a problem, that is a problem. How I would spend my entire life working like a donkey for some other donkey, how one day I will die having achieved nothing but obsolete knowledge of mobile networks. How my life is no better than a coolie's, how I am just a software coolie. Well, you get the idea!
However, unlike the last few times, there was a difference. I still continued writing. I only got about 300-350 words on the page, but they were good words. I surprised myself with the sudden change that took place in the book and the situation. I had thought of writing the whole book again with a first person narrative, as it would then have my tone, but I realized that the protagonist is not me, so I continued on. I may still change it later, but I find it unlikely.
Oh, and yes, I am writing myself into a dead end, and by the time I finish chapter 9, I would be thoroughly stuck. One of my close friends, who critiques the chapters for me, asked me why write myself in a corner then? My answer was, that if I dont take the difficult path, the book would not really be interesting. I mean, if I am in a hole, so is the character, and so is the reader. If I dont put people in holes, how is it supposed to get interesting.
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