Today, while cooking the Sunday roast, I caught up on some old podcasts I’ve had sitting around on my iPad for a while. Very old in fact. One of them was an episode of Open Book I’ve been meaning to listen to since early May. Well, 2011 was a very busy year.
The reason I’ve kept it so long was that I wanted to hear Eoin Colfer and John Boyne talk about the differences of writing fiction for children and adults. While it was very interesting, even after all this time, an item later in the episode really grabbed by attention. Jim Crane, author of the Booker nominated novel Quarantine was being positively berated by Mariella Frostrup for announcing that at the age of 65 he was going to retire from writing. You would have thought that the poor man had revealed that at the age of 65 he was going to take up strangling kittens.
At the time of the broadcast Crane was writing his 12th – and apparently final – novel. When the husky presenter asked if his impending retirement was making his swansong a bitter-sweet project, he replied:
This novel is as difficult and awkward companion [as my others] and in a way novels ought to be that, because when you’re not troubled by them and satisfied you’re never going to fix them.
Crane went on to say that he “hates” his current work in progress.
How refreshing is this? I’m currently working, not on a draft but an outline for a novel. A publisher has shown interest and now needs to see more detail. It’s driving me barmy. Try as I might, I can’t get it to work at the moment. We haven’t quite got to the hate stage, but there’s definitely antagonism. Some would even say enmity.
I think I’m going to suggest a trial separation for a few days. I’m not going to let it beat me, but I think some space will do me (and probably it) the world of good.
Have you a love / hate relationship with your current work in progress?
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