Like it or not, I do what I want

I'm talking about my novel. When I told my friend about my original concept for the thriller, she screamed, 'No, you can't do that. I hate it! It's like having a character wake up from a dream!'
If there's one rule, then it is to not mess with a reader, if they feel cheated, they will be unhappy. 
To be honest, I can't remember the exact plans I had, but I'm sure it involved my character writing a book in which she basically tortured and killed off the characters, and in the end, she'd put the pen down and smile. I found it rather suitable, since it's basically what I'm doing and the characters won't suffer any less. Just that it's a book in a book. I had a really good brain storming session with someone yesterday, who wasn't sure about the idea either. Yet, the more I think about it, the more I love it. And the way I'm doing it, means the reader knows exactly what's going on, like in Inception, which was a massive hit. If well done, the reader will quickly be in the story and only be reminded at the very end.


When my friend rejected my concept, it shot a massive hole in my creativity and I couldn't write for weeks. Things like that, you know? My problem was how to integrate the first character, which is the real heroine, but takes a backseat after the prologue and doesn't appear anymore until the very end. I have thought back and forth and whatnot to find a solution to that problem, but to no avail. I can be stubborn as mule when it comes to concepts and plotting. Once I fall in love with something, it's hard to convince me otherwise. The fact that I struggled so much means I had doubts, but not anymore. I like breaking the rules. If someone says you can't do that, I'm all the more determined to do it, but to do it effectively.

I want that the reader is sucked into the story and forget that it's just a book in the book, and feels for the three MCs who'll go through hell and never come back. Since it's my revenge on my former neighbours, I can't save any of them. Normally you'd have the good win over the bad in a thriller, wouldn't you? Which means, they would need to survive, maybe be better people after that experience. But I don't want that. I want them dead! Oh, nasty me. I want that Karma hits them hard, which, in that novel, it does. I'll also leave the ending open and a bit mysterious, so the reader can decide if it really happened or not.

After breaking through that beast of a brick wall, I'm much  more confident finishing the novel until the 31st of July. 15k to go and that hopefully all guns blazing.

Wish me luck. :-)

I'm not Grammar Jesus

Well, that's what I've been told yesterday and I had to laugh at that statement. Guess what? The person was right. This particular person -- presumably an author -- is trying to sell his book. And he seems to think no matter what it takes. People have repeatedly pointed out that the book is full of errors, so is the blurb.
He seems unwilling to correct any of them. Not even one.Now call me cynical, but I doubt this book will succeed.
After I pointed out that his one-liner had eight errors in it, he told me I'm not Grammar Jesus. Heck, I don't want to be Jesus anyway. I'd rather be a Grammar Nazi, because that would mean my grammar is impeccable, which is not the case. But I have hope.
At the moment, I'm learning the past of the past, as I call it, or probably better known as past perfect. All those names don't mean anything to me to be honest; I learn it all by heart.
My poor friend Tom is the one who suffers, as I'm sending him excerpts from the thriller, asking him to highlight anything wrong so I can fix it and he kindly helps me on my quest to learn and improve.

Speaking of the thriller: after I've finally had the breakthrough with the rough storyline, the writing flows. Sort of. My daily goal is 1000 words and so far, I've managed apart from one day, where I only wrote 500. Better than nothing, right? I hope to have the first draft complete by mid May. So pull up your knickers, it's getting hot, my dears.

Hot was it in London today and I spent the whole day on the roof, writing, chatting to people and then partaking in the workshop for us gardeners. As a result I brought home 1200 words, half a proposal written and a full blown sunburn. Oh and an aching body. Ho hum.

See you later

This is how it's in London today. Blue sky, sunshine and I'm off to the roof park. Since I sat in front of my laptop for the past two days, more or less unsuccessfully trying to create a decent plot for the Thriller, I think I need a break. So the weather is great, my bike's calling, the kilos grinning. A bit of exercise won't do any harm, right?
Need some food for the iguana and there's plenty of green stuff for him.
I'll take my Kindle to read a little and pop to the market to get some fruit and veg. The roof park isn't open for the public yet, meaning I'll probably have some wonderful peace up there, sitting in the sun.
Maybe I'll get some more ideas on how to carry on with the story. Here's what I wrote yesterday, Not much as you can see, but it's only the beginning of the scene. It'll become more...um bloody, probably.

Natalie blinked and looked about, trying to orientate herself. She was alone in a small room. The only furniture – as far as she could tell – was the bed she was lying on. Its mattress was worn and the frame creaked and wobbled. She shivered under the far too thin cover. Where was she?

'Hello? Is there anyone there?'

A loud pang made her heart leap into her throat. She lay still and listened. It was silent again. Slowly, Natalie relaxed and sat up. Another thud. Howodd. Lookingattheceilingtofindoutwhatcausedthenoise,shesawnothing.Atleastnothingthatwouldhinttowhereitcamefrom.Sheswungherlegsovertheedgeandstood.Theroomseemed cleanwithafaintsmellofbleach.

'Whatthehell?'shesteppedclosertooneofthenakedwalls.Adirt-coveredlampofferedadimlight,enoughtosee,butnotenoughtoreadthefadingwordsscribbledallovertheplace.Shesquintedandtriedagain,tonoavail.How strange.

Another two thuds made her jump back.

'Hello?' she called out again.

Thud.

Slowly, she took a step back. And another.

Thud.

She shrieked when her calves touched the bed, her heart leaped into her throat.

'Hello? This isn't funny.' It came out half a whisper.

Thud, thud.

Natalie sat down and leant against the wall behind her, pulling the cover over her knees.

'Please, stop.'

Thud, thud, thud.

As if she were in a cardboard box with a bed, wearing earplugs while someone worked on a drum kit. That's how it felt. A dull droning that sent vibrations through her body. Uncomfortably buzzing in her head.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she breathed in and out to calm herself down. Nobody was going to hurt her, right? It's just noise; she'll be fine.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

It came from above.

Pang.

A door being slammed? Would someone come to rescue her? Or at least explain what is going on?

Pang, thud, pang, thud, thud.