Collapsed near the finish line of the 4th draft of The Sauly Bird

Hello everybody, this is what I think Aulani looks like - I found this picture on the net - but this is how I think she might look.

Until last night I was working every minute of every hour to get to the end of my fourth draft of The Sauly Bird. Nobody is driving me to finish this. Only myself. I nearly got there last night at 2 am so I'll get back to that after I've written this update. (Have spent today writing this week's post for Hastings Online Times.)

I found that I had to rewrite two sections because my characters just wouldn't go down the route of those particular bits of storyline. I've found out that I'm a 'pantser' not a 'planner' which, apparently, is one of the two styles of writing that people fall into. A 'pantser' is someone who 'flies by the seat of their pants.' Well, I'm not sure that is an accurate description of how I write.

What I do is to create the characters, have a look at their situation which always has a problem and then follow them down the road to the end of the novel. Actually, I do plan a little bit, but the story always goes somewhere else. So yes, I do plan, but then have to abandon it. This makes me ask myself why I plan at all and the answer is that I don't know because over and over again, I do the same thing. Plan the story and abandon it.

I don't mind writing like this because it's interesting to see what happens and and I am never sure of the ending until I get there.

Last night I stopped when I couldn't see straight anymore but I still hadn't quite finished the 4th draft so that's why I say that I collapsed near the finish line. It's not a finish line at all, of course. Every finish is just a new beginning.

But I'm feeling cheerful. The next step is to send it out to beta readers especially readers from Papua New Guinea. I've got a friend who has put me in touch with some friends from the past, who I hope will read and give me feedback. And I've got one or two very good friends whose opinion I trust who will read for me here.

I can't see my novel at all because I'm too close. In fact, I'm so close that I can smell the leaves and the steamy air and I'm happy to be back in Papua New Guinea, if only in my mind.

It won't be long before I fall back into the pit of despond - I'll see a hundred failings that I know are there. But just for now, I'm happy.

Thank you for reading this. I hope that your writing is going well. I think of you and wonder who you are. And where you are. And what you are writing.