I’m two years and four months into writing my first rom-com and I am asking myself this question all the time. Fewer posts appear @LostBlogs when I am having a purple patch which I always make the best of, I’ve been up since 03.30 this morning, but one never knows if the next bout of Writer’s Block is just around the corner.
I’m wrestling with re-write number 5, which I started with the intention of paring it down and a few hundred words have managed to appear on our Outtakes Page. But three quarters of the way through and the word count has risen by 3000 words. What is it about me and not being able to get rid of stuff?
Humour is so subjective. What tickles my funny bone, may not float your boat. Slapstick, Deadpan, Self-Deprecating, Topical, Satire, Black or Surreal? There are many sidesplitting sinkholes for me and my rom-com to disappear into.
Writing a novel is a challenge and making sure that the humour in it is evenly spread over a plot strong enough to hold it up is the challenge I have set for myself. Spurred on by such inspirational role models as Helen Fielding, Sue Limb, Sally Wainwright and Willy Russell whose work I frequently dive into and always leaves me in awe.
In an unsettled world there is often little to laugh about and we all need time for a bit of comedic reflection. To flick through, or to digitally swipe, pages of ficition about a life, not too disimilar from our own. To smile at the light hearted banter from the lips of our anassuming hero who goes out and kicks arse to make their wildest dream come true. It’s good to laugh.
Being an author of a book is like being a mother of a debutante in the Middle Ages. You have to present your baby to society and provide her with dowry, and in your heart, you hope that some royalty spends a night with her and ensures her way to success.