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desperanceIt's never easy, knowing where to stop. It's true of whole books, and of chapters too; but on a daily basis is what I'm thinking. If nothing calls you away, how do you know when you've written enough?
Some people have a regime and stick to it, scheduled hours or daily wordcount. Graham Greene used to write to the bottom of a page and stop mid-sentence; he made a virtue of it, on the grounds that he knew exactly where to start again next morning. Others since have adopted variations. George Sand worked to a clock, and if she finished her chapter within the time, she would take a fresh sheet and begin a new chapter; if she finished her novel within the time, she would take a fresh sheet and begin a new novel. I find that terrifying.
Me, I've always tended to write to a natural break and then stop there. It's contrary to the standard advice, on the grounds - as per Greene - that it's harder to get started again, but I built my habits before there was much advice around and this is what I do and I'm pretty much comfortable with it.
Sometimes, though, it's not so much a natural break as an oh, yeah. I like that. Let's not spoil it by moving on tonight...
As tonight. Here I am, right in the middle of a scene; there is the bottle of wine, open and receptive; I have no other calls on my time and I could just carry on. I probably should. But I did this:
He took off like a rocket from a bottle, like a firework trailing sparks. Like a stupid damn sprite who didn’t know what was out there, who thought he was invulnerable, immortal. Safe.
I could have shrieked. I might have shrieked.
Okay, I shrieked.
- and, y'know. Sometimes you get to interplay your daily syntax with your daily bread, and that'll do.
Stopping now.
Some people have a regime and stick to it, scheduled hours or daily wordcount. Graham Greene used to write to the bottom of a page and stop mid-sentence; he made a virtue of it, on the grounds that he knew exactly where to start again next morning. Others since have adopted variations. George Sand worked to a clock, and if she finished her chapter within the time, she would take a fresh sheet and begin a new chapter; if she finished her novel within the time, she would take a fresh sheet and begin a new novel. I find that terrifying.
Me, I've always tended to write to a natural break and then stop there. It's contrary to the standard advice, on the grounds - as per Greene - that it's harder to get started again, but I built my habits before there was much advice around and this is what I do and I'm pretty much comfortable with it.
Sometimes, though, it's not so much a natural break as an oh, yeah. I like that. Let's not spoil it by moving on tonight...
As tonight. Here I am, right in the middle of a scene; there is the bottle of wine, open and receptive; I have no other calls on my time and I could just carry on. I probably should. But I did this:
He took off like a rocket from a bottle, like a firework trailing sparks. Like a stupid damn sprite who didn’t know what was out there, who thought he was invulnerable, immortal. Safe.
I could have shrieked. I might have shrieked.
Okay, I shrieked.
- and, y'know. Sometimes you get to interplay your daily syntax with your daily bread, and that'll do.
Stopping now.