The novel continues to surprise me. Duncan has found a spot for himself in it, and he kept his real name, too. My friend Robin Kelsey has become my main character’s next-door-neighbour. The Son of the Traveling Shovel of Death has claimed another victim (fortunately neither Duncan nor Robin, whose name, by the way, is now Dominic).
I’m up to 23,290 words, or 62 paperbook pages. It stinks, and it stinks bad. But I am learning a great deal from it. How not to write a book. Pitfalls to avoid, like having the bulk of the story set inside one character’s head, especially when that one character spends most of her time thinking. The importance of good bones in a story. The importance of momentum. The importance of consistency. The unimportance of accounting for every moment.
What else is new? Something very, very exciting happened yesterday. It’s still a secret. But I’ll give you a hint: It involved a trip to the Ottawa Humane Society.