Gaaaaah, my book's gone funny. I don't mean peculiar, I mean ha-ha. Some reason my heroine keeps cracking jokes.
I think it may be to do with my latest positivity experiment, gleaned from a book who's author is so chirpy you can hear her hyperventilating as you read. The exercise is: Every day, choose something positive about yourself and every time you start to think of gloomy neggy things, quickly switch focus to your chosen blessing-for-the-day.
I started with feet (I have nice feet), and moved on to my sense of humour. Yesterday I kept reminding myself what a fabulous sense of humour I have, even when I chipped my favourite turquoise plate, even when another friend called to announce her engagement (and yes, of course that is cause for celebration, I'm over the moon that everyone I know is getting hitched and/or pregnant while I bravely plough on creating plasticene porn films for la posterity. But I digress) even when I banged my shin very hard on the bath tap. Haha, I said. I have such a feckin great sense of humour. Ahaha. Sob.
And then later when wrestling with Chapter five, every time I wrote dialogue, my mean and moody and hep heroine kept bursting all the sultry bubbles with wisecracks. I told her to shut up and she stuck out her tongue.
This is something I struggle with, being of grasshopper bent. I flicker through moods like a shapeshifter, and a novel takes a few months to write, during which I've gone up down and sideways about four hundred times, and sod it, the tone has leaked onto the page. I'll let her keep her funnies for the moment, and do something horrible to her in Chapter six to wipe that smirk off her face.
Today's positive affirmation: I am determined. (This is a lot harder than you might think, coming up with thirty different positives and no repeats. Maybe I should have started with 'left foot', and saved 'right foot' for another day. Ah well. I still have 'not dead yet'.)