Returning to a draft

There’s always something a little nerve-wracking about returning to a draft of anything, especially when you haven’t touched it for a very long time. When working on The Burning Ash, I had a finished draft sat waiting to be edited for years; but after finishing university and looking at it, I scrapped the whole thing and started again.

I started writing A Place Where We Belong not long after publishing The Burning Ash back in 2019. It’s now seven years later and it has been constantly put on the back-burner. Bits of progress have happened here and there over the years, but life has just gotten in the way. Challenges with work and love and my depression left me with little energy for much else outside of my wonderful dog, Milo, and my venture into amateur dramatics.

Drafts

Now that my life has finally settled down again, I want to finish this novel that’s been sitting in my mind for seven years. That means opening up the file and re-reading everything I’ve written so far. Seeing whether I still like what I wrote, whether the characters are who I wanted them to be, and to figure out how to break through the sequence that was causing me so much trouble.

And that’s where the nerves come in.

Will I need to re-write the whole thing? Will I need to scrap entire sections? Or is what’s there good enough and I just need to push through and finish it?

It’s exciting and terrifying, because it involves so much self-reflection and self-critique that it can be difficult to tell whether you’re being too hard on yourself or you have delusions of grandeur. I like to think I’ve read enough books in my time, and studied literature enough to know whether my writing has value; but having value and being enjoyable to an audience are two very different things.

Reflections on AI

In a world where some writers are turning to AI for research, for editing, or even for writing their entire novels; I’m proud to remain true to my art and use my mind and my words. Writing, to me, is about bringing enjoyment to others. It’s about telling a story that means something to me. It might have a simple message. It might be a complex exploration of a theme or an idea. It might be a way of giving myself therapy and a way to work through my issues.

AI cannot do any of that. It regurgitates things which already exist without actually understanding why.

Every word and sentence and paragraph in a book is a choice. Sometimes those choices aren’t normal. Sometimes they are. But AI can’t choose.

Conclusion

So, as I pick up this draft again, I want to revel in the perfect imperfections of my writing. I want to explore the how and the why of my choices. I want to finally finish this love letter to my hometown of Nottingham and to the world of theatre that has brought me so much joy.

2026 is the year A Place Where We Belong will be finished. I’ve said the same thing for the past five years, but this time I’m going to hold myself to it. It’s time for the tale of Arthur Freeman and Hope Ashman to be told.