My brain has been kicking an idea around for a while now. It is not an idea I like one little bit, and I can’t let go of it, and I’m starting to get massively, massively fucked off with it. The idea is this: write a novel.
This is a shit idea. I don’t do long prose, because I’m shit at it. But I have reached the point, after some 18 months of kicking it, where I am forced to concede that if ever I am to do something with MARLOWE it won’t be a comic (or at least, not any kind of mini-series of the sort one could pitch as a previously unpublished writer). But I don’t want to sit on it. So I need to make it into something else. Something where I can place different demands on the thing, and make it another sort of beast, while still exploring the themes I want to. And the only form I can find that would make it something fit to see the light of day is to write it as a novel.
This doesn’t just suck because I don’t want to write a novel, by the way. This sucks because it means a totally different approach, a complete re-thinking, and, most crucially, it means doing a fucksight more research than I needed to for the comic. My head has Betrayed me. I must kill it. Or at least talk myself out of writing a novel.