The Journey – Part 1 1/2 – Progress report.

Welcome back Wrecketeers!

Unfortunately, since I last posted there hasn’t been much progression to report on. The reason being, as I checked through the start of my novel, ready to send it off… I decided it just wasn’t good enough, the entire book past the first chapter flows perfectly, but there was something… off, at the start.

Really? come on, we wanna see some action!

Go watch Die hard then. realistically, I need this to be perfect before I start zapping it off on the interwebs to Jim, Bob and Barry; if it’s rushed, im just lowering my chances of anyone picking it up… So, I’ve decided to rewrite the first fifty pages. Well, I’ve actually completed the edit, and im still not happy; but only with the first ten or so pages, the rest is perfect… So, sorry guys; not much to report on at this stage, although saying that; I’m hoping to get a submission out later on in the week, so the next piece will be on how to write a cover letter and put together a submission!

Anyway, just so you haven’t wasted your time; I’ll answer some of the questions that I’ve been emailed via Fantasy road.

Hello Wrecket, you absolute god; I was wondering if you had any tips on how to describe an emotion in writing? (Please note, some wording of the question has been altered to better suit my god-like existence)

Well, seeing as you asked so politely dear minion; I shall bestow upon you a portion of my copious knowledge. I find that when writing about emotion or a feeling, it’s best to base your descriptions on something you’ve experienced… If at all possible. For example, Love… how does it make you feel? Does it rage inside your heart like a painful inferno, does it make your skin grow hot and your stomach awash with the flutter of butterflies? Or even chill you to the core with fear at the terrifying feeling that you know so little about. Use what you feel as a prompt… for example if I was writing a romance, I’d write it like this.

“Harold placed his moist palm against the cool wall of the house as he steadied himself, his vision spun, the music of the party suddenly deafening with its deep bass that vibrated the very pit of his stomach in a horribly nauseous fashion. “One drink”, he’d told himself; and like the fool he was, he had believed it. Slowly, with care not to move his aching head any faster than he had to, the college dropout lowered his eyes to the wristwatch he wore on his left arm.

“Shit…” He muttered after a few moments of squinting as he realised it was only six in the evening. A groan escaped his lips as bile rose in his throat, the acidic burn almost triggered his gag reflex as the vile liquid built, ready to be expelled.

“Harold!”, a female voice; one he knew well.

“Shit.” He repeated as he attempted to straighten himself, by god it took a lot of effort; the floor felt like it had gone crazy, even standing still took a large amount of concentration not to fall without the aid of his trusty new friend, the brick wall. Harold looked up, A tall redhead was running towards him, her lithe frame taut as her legs bounced her up the path, a wide smile plastered to her lips. Kara. Harold grinned at his best mate, which elicited a sharp laugh from the pretty girl.

“You’re battered.” She stated.

“Ain’t” Harold slurred in reply.

“Well, regardless; fix up, this is Amelia.” What? Harold cursed under his breath as he remembered the conversation he had had with Kara a few days prior, she had told him that she wanted to hook him up with one of her mates, this Amelia whoever. Right, game face. He thought to himself as Kara stepped to the side.

His jaw dropped. This “Amelia”, was gorgeous; long golden blonde hair paired with the most beautiful grey-blue stormy eyes, slightly tanned skin covered a fantastic figure; the girl was unbelievable.

“Hey Harold.” Amelia smiled as she talked, her sensual red-pink lips parted to reveal perfectly white teeth, there was something exotic about her, a drop of foreign blood maybe… and damn… her rack. “Harold?” Shit. Panic set in as he realised he’d just been blatantly staring at her boobs in a drunken haze, completely zoned out. Say something! his mind raced as he attempted to sort through the avalanche of nonsense that cascaded through his head, the panic making it near enough impossible.

“Butter!” He blurted stupidly. What the fuck man? Amelia looked him with one raised eyebrow, confusion apparent on her perfect face; god she was gorgeous. Suddenly his heart seemed to increase in tempo as he floundered to find the right words, the drum like sound overpowering in his ears, his palms even sweatier than moments ago, a lump had appeared in his throat. No please, not now.

“Harold, what the fuck man?” Kara laughed as she leaned forward, finger outstretched to playfully poke her friend in the gut, an awkward smile on her face. No! it was as if her manicured finger was some sort of trigger, as soon as the tip made contact with his roiling belly, he knew it was over.

“Blerrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhhh” Harold roared as dark purple vomit left his mouth to cover the two girls that stood before him.

Shit. He thought.”

Right. So I should never write a romance novel. Just to clear things up, when I say base it on past experience, I mean very loosely; I have never (as of yet) thrown up on anyone, but the emotions and thought process was very real, although it was a collection of them over a space of time, situational feelings taken from different moments and coupled together in the piece above.. Also, in real life I actually ended up dating the girl, and to this day she still makes my life hell. I mean amazing. (Joke, please don’t hurt me) She also subscribes to my blog, so if there’s no posts from me for a while, send flowers to my grave. (P.S I love you dear. Innocent face).

Next question!

Dear Overlord Wrecket, how much should an aspiring author read? Over the last five years I’ve read about sixty books, is that enough?

Personally I’ve always read between 2 – 3 books a week depending on length, so in five years at a minimum would be 2 x 4 (for a month) = 8 then x 12 (a year) = 96, x 5 (five years) = 480… at a very minimum. Of course, this is me; I read abnormally fast, I’d say for an average reader, 60 – 80 book is pretty good.

I would definitely say to read more if you’re interested in writing a novel yourself, although obviously there is no typical set number you have to read, it’s an ongoing thing. the more you read, the more you learn.

Unfortunately, that’s all I have time for this evening, but I hope to post a progress report later on in the week like I stated earlier.

Bye for now, and thanks for reading!



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