Four months this time, then. Whatever.
Firstly, the bad news. For three of those four months, I’ve done nothing on the novel.
Secondly, the good news. I’ve written a sitcom pilot with a mate and submitted it to the BBC.
Thirdly, I’m going to see my careers consultant on Thursday for the first time in months.
Let’s look at each of these points individually for just a moment. I got the novel to a place where I wanted a couple of people to look at it. As I mentioned, the missus read it in August/September (30,000+ words versus 18,000 when I restarted). Whenever she reads my stuff she’s:
(a) Excited because she loves the fact that I’m actually writing (and this in turn is massively gratifying for me).
(b) Analytical. I feel honoured that it takes her longer to read my work than anyone else’s. Ordinarily she’s a scalded cat of a reader, polishing off 300-page roller-coaster novels on short-haul flights and tackling two pages before I’ve finished one if ever we’re reading the same passage in a book. But with mine she takes her time, savours, pauses, re-reads, digests. Because she’s also, in the nicest possible way…
(c) Critical. Would that character really say that? Why does she take that course of action when the other course is far easier? Isn’t that passage a bit derivative (I haven’t read Oliver Twist, OK)? Couldn’t you introduce more observational humour?
I’m sure I’ll get better at not looking hurt or appearing defensive when she makes suggestions. Just might take a bit of time, that’s all. Alright, I’m promising nothing. Fact is, though, that I combed through the entire manuscript, making many (but not all) of the changes she suggested. That done, I forwarded it to my careers consultant.
Now, the sitcom. An article appeared over the summer in which BBC1’s Controller Danny Cohen made a plea for more scripts. Again, my wife was encouraging and, after an initial period of resistance from me (I have a novel to finish, don’t you know?), I decided to give it a bash with an old mate of mine. Said mate and I have a rich pedigree in BBC comedy. Who could forget Religious Fundamentalist Wrestling on BBC3’s New Comedy Talent? What’s that? You’ve never heard of it? Philistines.
Anyway, our sitcom is called Clever, Bitter, Middle-Aged. What to say about it? Well, it centres around three frustrated 40-year-olds, each of whom wants to escape the drudgery of his life. It’s full of swearing. And it features a healthy dollop of toilet- and poo-related humour. And the main thing is it was enormous fun to write. We’ve submitted it to the BBC and have been promised a response within….four months.
Finally, my careers consultant. I feel awful for having put her off for the last couple of months but, as she says, as long as I’m writing that’s the main thing. Now to explain to her the shifting sands of my recent writing and the attendant delay in the next stage of my novel.
Next post, on the current pattern, should be about next July.
