This is so very stupid, the most withered of clichés to conjure, but I lay the blame for my guilty conscience at the altar of my Catholic upbringing.
…did you know that Andy Warhol was a devout Catholic? And that many of the superstars and assorted hangers on in his orbit were lapsed Catholics? I did not know this until I began research for my novel, and it made me wonder about the extent to which I have been subconsciously drawn to some hard-to-pinpoint whiff of Catholicism about his work. (Let me point out here that I think the treatment of color, the liberal use of “gold dust,” and the iconography of his portraiture are obviously Catholic-adjacent, but I don’t think the draw is as overt as imagery.)
Anyhoo. In the spirit of confession, I offer the following lame lapse in my own personal standards: that last night I did not work on my novel-in-progress, nor did I blog. Instead, I wasted a bunch of time online. I felt horribly guilty about this when I went to bed. Usually when this internet time wasting occurs (which is basically nightly) I punish myself by making myself write anyway, to the detriment of my sleep patterns. But I gave myself a break last night. Don’t I deserve a break every once in a while? Guilty conscience says no, I do not deserve a break, not after a 5-day vacation.
I further confess that my month-long novel is now four days into being a two-month novel. The final length is supposed to be +/- 50K, and it stands at 32K. I had hoped to get in 1500 words tonight, but we had some errands to run, plus Project Runway is back on, and I had to blog. I’m thinking 500 is definitely doable at this point, but if I get in 900, I’ll go to bed at 33K. (Penance.)
The most unexpected thing about the novel I’m working on now is how eager it’s made me to return to the novel that needs revision. All kinds of new ideas have been occurring to me about how to create additional tension in the backstory. I’ve got one very important idea to develop in the frontstory (unfortunately requiring quite a bit of research). Being away from the project has illuminated things about it that I was too close to it before to notice. I’m still not sure about the way time is working or the structure of it, or how I will address the overabundance of floof, but just this morning I had a mini-revelation, an a-ha! that was quite satisfying.
Then, just moments later, I was deflated when I recalled how back in the novel writing workshop I took in the fall? Someone literally said that to me every week.