I don't know how you novelists do it, I really don't. 30K into my current attempt and I realise I'm writing another science fiction quest novel. As if the only plot drivers I can come up with concern people going to fetch things, as if they were nipping to the shops. It's dead to me. I'm starting a new one. Sure I could probaly get it finished if I plodded on, but, meh.
Quest novels are great, but I don't want to write one. I want to write like Phillip K Dick. So I've searched out my old copy of 'Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep' and I'm reading it in the hope of enlightenment. Boy, it's good. And only 180 pages long.
Mabye I ought to plan more, or something. Sigh.
The next day. . . .
Ah. This is a bit embarassing really. Today the novel doesn't seem too bad. Maybe there's more to be learnt soldiering on. What am I like?