So at the weekend I reached the 90,000 work mark on my novel, a piece of work I started in June of last year and it looks like I’m actually going to do it, I’m going to finish.
From the off I have said I want to write a hundred thousand words and although I can tell by the way things are currently running that I’m definitely going to go beyond that there is a quiet relief in the fact that I know I can do it. My brother recently commented that he doesn’t even know that many words (and yes I had to explain that there aren’t 90,000 individual words in it, that a lot are repeated).
The issue now is that for it to go anywhere I need to get it out to people, people beyond my close friends and family are going to have to read what is essentially a work of non fiction, a little bit of my life that I’m putting out on display and that’s where the fear really lies. I still don’t feel like my shell is hard enough to repel any negative press. On the surface I think ‘Fuck them, they just don’t get it’ but I know deep down its going to suck to be given any criticism of my work. That’s the real worry. It isn’t finishing it, because I’m quite excited about that as an idea, it’s the fact that it will leave my work and therefore me open to the world. It should really follow that the majority of people will find it intriguing because it is, it’s a funny story, there’s nothing not to like (other than some of the characters) so that’s what I’m focusing on, it’s an enjoyable experience reading it so anybody who thinks differently doesn’t really concern me, I don’t surround people who aren’t on the same page as me, so why would I care if those people don’t get it, they’re no supposed to.