Like ten million other people in America, I'm writing a novel. God, I feel stupid and pretentious just to say so. I have to talk about though. Publicly, because if I don't I'm going to drown it in my self-doubt. Again, like ten million other people, I always wanted to write a novel, but so far, my best attempt failed hard after a hundred and forty pages. My main character had no vulnerability, so no personality of his own. My main idea was good, maybe for a fifty pages novella, but trying to stretch it out over two hundred pages killed it in the egg.
My current project is named "Solace". It's the story of Charles West, a dispossessed seventeen year old from Shelter, a fictional city set in Colorado. Charles has very few things in life. A student job, his mind and a platonic love for a girl named Ashley. When drama strikes and Ashley gets murdered, Charles will start to feel the weight of the ghost it created over Shelter, a municipality that prided itself in its quiet living. Charles will face emptiness and muffled accusations from the well-thinking community. He will embark a desperate journey to find out what happened to Ashley in order to clear his named and find out a meaning to his pain. Hence the title, finding solace to an irremediable pain.
Here it is. I said it, I summarized my novel idea. Put like it, it sounds good and not too pretentious. It's a first step. I've already wrote a few pages, but I have an intense case of writer's block. So many of my projects crashed before that I want to hit the nail on the head with this one. Charles is a worthy character that I rid of all the problems of his predecessors. He's very young but he doesn't have any constraint. Not even parents.
This week-end, I'm all alone with the dog at home, it's time to give a try to that writing marathon I've been planning for a while. Hopefully I will go through it unscathed and with a few more pages.
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