A few weeks ago I
started writing a new novel, THE SITTING TENANT. The heroine is
Charlie, ugly duckling in a shiftless Liverpool family of 6 females -
Mum, 54 going on 29, Charlie's sister Georgina with 2 school age
daughters (courtesy of Arsehole Alan who's since deserted her) plus 6
week old Daisy, consequence of a Friday night clubbing.
Charlie's a carer in an
old people's home where Dingo, 89, a diabetic who's lost both legs
and has failing eyesight, becomes her closest friend. When he dies
Charlie discovers he's bequeathed her his entire estate: an enormous
dog (Irish Wolfhound), an enormous sum of money and an enormous house
with an embittered sitting tenant, a former soldier in Afghanistan
who's also a double amputee.
After writing 6000
words I decided it wasn't going anywhere.
So .... Keep the family
- they're funny and colourful and I could have a lot of fun with
them. Keep Mum's on-off toy boy, Ricky Capaldi, keep Arsehole Alan.
Keep Dingo, even though he dies in Chapter 2. Keep the dog. Keep the
sitting tenant but give him back one of his legs (another double
amputee is too much of a coincidence).
4000 words later it
still doesn't work.
So .... Keep the
family. Dump the dog. Dump the tenant. Dump the house. Keep the
money. Introduce a sexy lawyer. Introduce a writing class with a
creepy would-be crime writer. Change the title from THE SITTING
TENANT to THE WRITING CLASS.
7000 words on, where am
I going? Who knows? Nobody said writing was
easy, but it's fun!
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