The Frustration of a Writer

I get frustrated.  And I'm not talking about sexual frustration.  I'm talking about when it comes to writing.  I have these ideas in my head, and I have to get them down in paper, but it takes so long.  As I'm writing down the latest chapter, my mind is already fixated on the next chapter, desperately wanting to reach the climax.  But as with sex, that could be like experiencing a premature ejaculation.  Rush it, and it won't be so good.  Yeah, yeah, I understand that.  But I can only really begin to craft the story once the first draft is down on paper.  Then I can caress and stroke it until it becomes something really special.

But I desperately want that first draft down on paper.  Only then can I sit back and feel satisfied.  Only then can the story leave my mind.  See, at the moment, I think that "Maggie's Children" will be even more powerful than "Besotted".  I want to get it out there, I want other people to read it, to talk to me about it, to tell me what they liked, what they didn't like (and sometimes, the things they don't like about my books, they can be a surprise - other times, getting them to not like a certain scene, a certain character, was a deliberate act).  Oh there will be plenty of things in "Maggie's Children" that people won't like, but that's completely my intention.  Transgressive fiction should leave a nasty taste in people's mouths every now and again.

But right now, I'm frustrated.  Today, I've written perhaps 1,500 words.  Not a fantastic day so far, but I'm sat at my desk, Moleskine notebook in front of me, my trusty Parker pen at the ready, and I know I will get at least a couple more chapters done before I switch off the light.  But that's not enough.  I set myself a target of getting this book finished by June, but I want the first draft finished by the middle of May.  I'm not sure I'll achieve that, but I have to at least try - I have to try to get rid of this frustration.  I know that once I put down my Parker for the last time, I will have this big, fuck-off smile on my face.  I will achieved something special.  I will have finished a book.

And "Maggie's Children" will blow away everyone who reads it.