For those of you who have been following the adventures of Frank Danger, an apology is in order. I’m done with his saga for the time being and the stories are coming down.
*gasps of shock cascade throughout the packed stadium*
The reason for this is simultaneously exciting and horrifying. I’ve decided to write a novel about him (and his nemesis Hans Rochammer.) Since I’ve never attempted anything larger than a two or three thousand word story in my life, the mere notion looms large and intimidating. All the same, it’s proving more and more difficult to keep cohesion with these self-enclosed vignettes I’ve been using to tell his tale and Frank’s is a tale that I need to tell.
For years (decades if I’m honest) I’ve procrastinated writing a book. The reason I haven’t, I’ve said to myself, is that I didn’t have a character or a plot. As things stand, this justification rings increasingly hollow: Frank is a cool guy and I have a pretty good idea of where I want to take him.
Consequently, I find myself at the foot of the mountain looking up. Writing small stories is simple in that it requires very little commitment. You bang one out, rewrite it a couple times, and hit “Publish”. If it sucks, you write three more and forget it.
With a novel, I’m guessing it’s more difficult to leave it behind, especially if it’s awful.
But, what the hell? You only live once and life is short. (I’m trying to burn through as many cliches as possible before I start the book.)
Wish me luck.
I’ll keep you posted.
(See what I did there?)
Jim (Fred Rock)