I have attempted writing a novel many times before - but I struggle with continuity and consistency. I struggle to connect one scene from another. I end up putting together a collection of vignettes without any of them helping the progress of the plotline. When I create characters and settings for any fiction writing, I find that I get overwhelmed by the possibilities of unreal characters and the places I have invented that I get lost it in myself - to sit down by the street, to smell the earth and feel the warmth of that imagined sun.
All these to say that in my love for scenes and moments, the plotline gets drowned out, pushed to the background.
With a great fascination for the ordinary, I have often thought what the streets in my books will smell like, or sound like, or if the clouds would bring a welcoming buzz in the bazaar or plant seeds of complains among the busy shopper huddling like moths to the shop lights.
All these to say that in my love for scenes and moments, the plotline gets drowned out, pushed to the background.
With a great fascination for the ordinary, I have often thought what the streets in my books will smell like, or sound like, or if the clouds would bring a welcoming buzz in the bazaar or plant seeds of complains among the busy shopper huddling like moths to the shop lights.