The Perils of Reviving an Old Novel

Our attention spans are short. That can be a good thing sometimes. This morning, for example, I was supremely irritated by a kitchen sink clog. "Someone" had dumped something down the drain, except it didn't go down the drain and instead sat stubbornly inside the drain hole as murky water pooled around it. Thus, I found myself up to my elbow, scooping the mushy goop out with my hand. Not my desired first chore of the morning. Yet, once I went on to other things, I forgot about it ('til now). So, short attention spans can be good.

Then we come to my 2021 novel. Attention span-wise, almost five years is a long time to remain invested in anything. Of course, it's not as if I thought about that novel, except sporadically, during that time. I knew it was so-so at best, but no one was buying it, so what did it matter? Besides, I was busy writing new books. 

It wasn't until my writing life ended that I began taking a look at my older works. I decided my "legacy" would be cemented by creating physical copies of all my work, as opposed to digital bits no one can hold in their hand. Until Running From Herself, I only published ebooks. Eight of my books are novellas, so paperback versions struck me as unworkable. My longest novella is probably 21,000 words, which would make for an awfully thin physical book; little more than a pamphlet. 

I began my paperback project by figuring out how to get those novellas into print, and decided that two books with four novellas in each would be the most practical. That ended up being a good decision. While each book came out to over 600 pages, they're not unwieldy. Fat, sure. Bear in mind, I wasn't publishing these in the hopes of selling any. These were just for me. (I did sell one ebook.)

Now I only have two books to go, both full novels. Objectively, they're not masterpieces, but each represents almost a year of writing, so shouldn't that be memorialized somehow? Cynics would say no, but I can't afford to be cynical. I'm never going to write another book. I want a record of my work.

All that being said, it's not easy. The novel I'm shaping up has a lot of flaws. Obviously, I want it to be the best it can be before I turn it into a paperback, but listening to it being read aloud is so boring, I don't know that I can take it. Don't get me wrong--the overall story isn't boring, but even after all these years, it's too familiar. I've managed to listen to most of the first chapter so far--that's all. I stop and then return the next day and start over, because I'm listening for flow, so I'm back to the opening line. I could almost recite the entire chapter verbatim; that's how many times I've had to listen to it. I've begun to hate these people (the characters): the main character's cluelessness, the mother's passivity, the dad's irritating dialogue. No wonder somebody kills him. They probably couldn't take his blather anymore.

I'm not sure if the story just starts slow or if that's my perception of it, based on the number of times I've replayed the same words. It is a family saga, so readers need to "meet" the family; I get it. I just wish there was a better way. 

I recall that when I began writing it, I thought it would be cool to have the story take place in the span of three days. Thus, Friday goes on forever, Saturday turns into a long Saturday night, then Sunday the MC starts her trek of trying to figure out "who did it". But after that, my great plan fell apart. Did you know that a complex murder investigation takes more than a day? 😉 Since the murder doesn't even happen until Saturday night, that doesn't give either the MC or the police a lot of time to solve it. 

Of course, abandoning my original plan halfway through resulted in very long chapters of buildup, followed by "who the hell knows what day we're in now?" Events got jumbled. One might read the story and find it schizophrenic. The beginning s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-s out, then things start happening really fast.

The part of the story I really like is the last chapter. I don't know if I'll ever get to hear it, though, at my current listening pace. My heart's just not in it. 

I'm starting to question whether this was such a good idea after all.