So, I sat down to work on the novel in progress today. For the past week I've been sunk in the guts of this thing, trying to find a workable structure. Plotting at any stage of the novel-writing process is not a favourite activity: trying to hold the entire arc in my head makes me wind to grind my teeth down to nubs. Which is not to say I dislike the plotting or notecarding part. I love the interconnections that seem to spring up fully formed, and the moments of realisation. It's just that my braincase isn't wide enough.
But I think I've finally found something approaching a coherent and even cohesive storyline. And when I sat down this morning to start the
gutting rewrite, my book decided it didn't need to be coy any more. Behold: a title. And not just one, but three, two fighting over being the working title for the first book, one demanding to be the third book (ha! I'm not even sure I'll write the second book. But we'll see.)
So the new working title is Salamander, and at long last I don't have to call it The Novel. Maybe having its own name instead of pretending that it's the only significant novel in existence will help remind this book to behave, this time 'round.