I’ve been planning an “idea” for several months. This weekend – in between spending time with my Mum on her birthday, watching Farscape, playing Left 4 Dead 2 or Resonance of Fate – I reached my creative limit, in terms of how long I can stay inactive on an idea.
I’d been working on an outline on and off for the last month, and finally I cracked. Now it’s not so simple as taking the outline and just getting on with things. Part of the problem with this idea was that I’d never decided whether it should be a film or a graphic novel. Now that I’ve begun typing it, the idea is neither. It’s an SF novel.
I may switch it back to being a script of some sort in the future, but I needed a medium where I felt that I could start playing around with the characters, seeing how they interacted with each other and the insane plot line I’ve cooked up. I decided that a novel in the first person, or at least part of one, would be a reasonable way of exploring my idea further.
But how did I reach this point? In amongst dreams of what books I need to catch up with reading and a zombie nightmare, and the regular assortment of things I don’t remember, I kept dreaming about my idea. The story has been forming in my head, bubbling and stewing away like a casserole in a slow cooker. Well the slow cooker is done and before the meal can be ruined, I’ve decided to serve it up.
The first thousand words were typed up last night and I feel better now. No zombies like Saturday night haunting my dreams. Okay, I still dreamt about my idea, but the feelings of needing to get typing were less intense. And I’m sure that so long as I spend some time typing up more tonight – and subsequent nights for however long it takes – I’ll be able to manage this current writing obsession.