It's been difficult. Even starting the Great American Novel let alone finishing it. But I'm on course. No doubt about it. Definitely getting there.
Right now I'm stumped. Not stumped in the classic writers block/no ideas/imagination spinning down type of stumped. It's that I can't decide whether to write this certain car chase into the story or just use illustrations. A series of pictures placed smack dab in the middle of the book depicting the action outright like in this dog-eared biography of Evel Knievel I have lying around. Loads of great pics in that sucker. Leaves nothing to the reader's imagination of course.
But let's be honest, the imagination can be problematic. The question is, how can I be sure my reader is visualizing the intended scenario in a clear and accurate manner? For all I know they're seeing a dented Lincoln Town Car chasing down a disheveled clown on a unicycle when really I'm describing something far more meaningful, symbolic and transcendent.
Let's get real, the average reader, no, the average human has very little real impetus to read between the lines of anything, let alone the author's pen, coaxing out those hidden and well intentioned allusions of description, the matrices of inference and implication meant to ensure the reader's accurate assessment of the action taking place.
And also I feel it would save me time and energy not to have to actually write the car chase. This would leave me more time to develop my two main characters, Gus and Dreyfus, whose various idiosyncrasies have been giving me trouble.
At times a character can give you trouble.
The specific complexities of a given character might at first seem apparent but in time they turn out to be a real monkey wrench, fouling up everything. Or sometimes your characters turn out to be downright dull.
I've been having a similar problem with the book's ending. I can't decide whether to end it with the word left or leave. As in, "Pia refused to look back since for all intents and purposes, she had already left." Or, "Pia refused to look back since in her own mind she was already leaving."
I realize that the word leaving is different than leave, though it is the gerund form and in the end I might not use either one and just finish the book with the word still. As in, "Pia refused to look back on Bertram's prostrate form spread out in the freshly mown grass since she knew she might still love him, still."
That seems awkward now that I look at it. No matter, I'm still in the process of renaming my characters and it's a good bet that the whole structure of the book will change drastically over the course of the next few weeks. I may even end it with a question.
Initially, my character Gus was a worn out auto mechanic living above a dry-cleaners in Duluth. Now, however, I find that he is a pimply post-pubescent boy riddled with masturbatory guilt and castration fear, festering on the outskirts of suburban sprawl somewhere in Carson City, NV.
His best friend and nemesis, Dreyfus, has become a fat toe-head with the brains of a chimpanzee. Initially, Dreyfus was to be an actual chimpanzee but this made the dialogue difficult. I may turn Dreyfus back into a chimpanzee though. It will cut down on the time I spend writing dialogue. I didn't think of this when I decided to turn Dreyfus human. I only thought it might make the book more interesting if he could talk. Perhaps if Dreyfus were a talking chimp. That might be interesting.
The car chase I spoke of earlier is problematic in that I can't decide where the two heroes, Gus and Dreyfus, get the car. I think they steal it, though since I've never stolen a car I don't feel that I can properly write about it, as one should only write about what one knows first hand. Perhaps they borrow Gus' mom's car in order to take Dreyfus to the vet (see, I've already turned poor Dreyfus back into a monkey), though that seems less poignant than if they stole it. It's easy for me to picture two greasy suburban kids stealing a Plymouth from some old guy, driving it furiously through town until a cop begins to chase them. Overcome by adolescent panic they keep driving out into the Nevada desert, the cop still after them, his sirens blaring into the night.
YOU ARE READING
New Adventures in Writing...
HumorA fly-by-the-seat-of-the-pants criminal type is trying his damnedest to write the Great American Novel but his underworld past and violent proclivities are making it difficult.
