Dilemma
I am currently busy writing my next novel, The Librarian of Thornley End, which is due for release in the autumn.
At least, that is what I am supposed to be doing.
Beside my desk is a whiteboard. It began life as a sensible place for notes, reminders and occasional chapter ideas. It has since become a breeding ground for future novels. At the last count, there were eight possible titles written across it, each representing a story that may one day demand to be told.
Most of them are behaving themselves. They sit quietly in the background, waiting their turn.
One of them does not.
It is set in a hospital and follows a happy-go-lucky character whose life is suddenly changed by misfortune. What initially appears to be the end of everything he had hoped for gradually becomes the making of him.
And I cannot stop thinking about it.
Usually, when I begin a novel, I have a central idea, a handful of characters and a rough sense of where the story might go. Much of the joy comes from discovering the rest along the way.
This one is different.
I have never had such a clear vision for a piece of writing before I have even started it. The characters are already alive in my mind. I can see the key scenes, hear the conversations and understand the emotional journey almost from beginning to end. I practically have the whole story sewn up before a single proper chapter has been written.
Which is wonderful.
It is also extremely inconvenient.
Every time I sit down to work on The Librarian of Thornley End, the hospital story taps me on the shoulder. It suggests a scene. It offers a joke. It introduces another character. It whispers that I could always write just one chapter, purely to get it out of my system.
I know better than to listen.
Starting a new novel while still writing the current one would be rather like leaving the kitchen halfway through cooking Sunday lunch because I had suddenly become excited about breakfast.
So, for now, the hospital story must remain on the whiteboard. I will continue jotting down any ideas that arrive, but I must resist the temptation to begin properly.
The Librarian of Thornley End deserves my full attention. Its characters are already gathered, waiting patiently for me to finish telling their story.
The new idea will have its turn.
I just have to keep a lid on it until the new year.
That is the dilemma.
And, as writing problems go, I suppose it is not a bad one to have.