I didn’t realise I had any standards to lower until this lockdown. Eighteen months after we adopted a perfectly trained dog, she is now following me to the toilet and coming upstairs. I’ve done nothing to stop the latter. Partly, because, with six people working in the house, she knows to flatter me and snuggle at my feet.
On the other hand, the ten-year-old who was using me as an educational slave, has started working by himself. So, I’ve been able to get other things done.
I learnt a new term this week. Apparently, there’s something between a short story (classically less than 7,500) and a novella (more than 17,000) called a ‘novelette’.
I rather like this new name for what I’m writing. It makes it a bijou novel rather than an overgrown short story. No wonder it’s taking me weeks. People (other people, not me) can crank out a short story in a day, and when I thought I was writing that, I was quite frustrated. But my work it turns out, is 500 words into the definition of a ‘novelette’. That sounds like something quite different, something that should probably be slaved over.
It also meant I feel justified in creating chapters for my own sanity if no one else’s. Much easier to edit.
Still haven’t got it to my beta readers, but I hope that’ll happen this week. It’s at that polishing stage I always enjoy. Meanwhile, I am learning digital marketing skills, including the stereotyping required for successful Facebook ads.