Telegram from the Battlefront

I try very hard not to use hugely exaggerated war-like metaphors (deathmarch, and the like) when dealing with even the toughest part of this writing job. Cos, you know, however much it is building my stress levels and doing my head in, it's still a job that can be done from a comfy chair with a hot cup of tea at my elbow.

But right now, I am in the middle of a battle. Not a metaphorical battle with the book – a battle inside the book.

I don't think it's a spoiler to say that the final act of Creature Court Book Three comprises of an enormous action set piece. Involving all the characters from the previous 2 3/4 books whom I haven't already killed off. (damn it, why didn't I kill more characters earlier) It's huge and messy and complicated, and though I have ultimately planned this one down to the wire (which is to say written down what happens when it explodes in my head) it keeps changing on me. There is one character in particular who seems to be some kind of literary wild card. He laughs in the face of plot, and has a tendency to try to kill people unexpectedly, or inspire people to kill him at precisely the wrong moment.

This is someone who was going to be redeemed and die heroically, and instead managed to betray everyone, seize power, leave his closest friends bleeding in a pile and go skipping off into the sunset. He was supposed to be a minor character. Minor characters cannot be trusted, people! They swallow books whole!

And after spending the morning immersed in said battle, it's rather hard to emerge, eat lunch, do laundry, cook dinner and take my daughter to gymnastics. Cos, you know. Buildings to destroy, blood to spill, sky to fall. I think I'm going to be cranky and irritable until I get to the end of this draft!

I'm hoping to hit that point by the end of this weekend, just so I can breathe, send the damaged, leaky thing off to my Swedish writing fairy for a gently critical read (I can't take more than that right now, there might be CRYING) and race through those copy edits that landed on my desk yesterday, before I start patching the holes and making the Book Three manuscript robust enough to take a Good Firm Edit. Because, you know. I want this one to be good. No pressure on myself here or anything, but there's no point in writing the third book in a trilogy unless it can be better than the two that led it there, and also pay off everything you've set up.

It can be done. It will be done. I just have to keep my head down until the explosions die down, the smoke clears, and I get to find out who made it to the end. The really sad thing is, I think I've written all the sex scenes for this one. No fun stuff to reward myself with once I'm finished being Dr Big Mean Writer. Until, you know, I start the next book…