Official Site of Doyle Manderley

Profoundly terrible. Lore drop: I’ve been writing fiction since I was a child, having developed my first little shit comic book [redacted] years ago. I’ve written countless short stories. I’ve even won some prizes and had a couple of things published under my real name, [redacted]. Nothing groundbreaking or astonishing, but it has happened.

Yet I’ve never finished a novel-length work. I’ve started a million; never completed any. That’s the way my mind is, unfortunately. The number of things I’ve started and left behind… it makes me feel a little sick. Sick? Is that the word I want? Regretful? Like a dumbass? Maybe a little from each bucket. Love a good bucket of negative self-talk. A few lined up is cherry.

But somehow, some way, I finally finished the horrible initial draft of a full book, for the first time in my entire [redacted] years of life, and I thought, Huh. It’s pretty bad, but also not bad.

Then I ignored it for a year.

To be fair to myself, it was a horrible year (beloved people dying, real job sucking my own will to live, the Tangerine Demon returning to the White House and somehow staying there, family dramatics), and I didn’t really have the juice to fulfill any dreams or longings during that time. Dreams and longings shall resume shortly, thank you for your patience.

Now, the horrors have passed (the microcosm horrors; the HORRORS still persist, but what can we do?) and so I bought a book about how to edit a draft, in a very methodical way, and I’m working my way through it. I looked at the description and thought, Sounds tedious; I’m in.

And it’s actually kind of fun, turns out. I like things like this. I’d forgotten. Having some structure, and a life with small but manageable horrors, has improved things.

I sound like I have Stockholm Syndrome. It’s actually terrible, as the title of this post suggests. But the book is very helpful. Thanks, Allison K. Williams. I might actually finish this thing.

DM