House hunting this week. Exciting, nerve-wracking, tiring, interesting... and reminded me a lot of writing a new book, in a weird kind of way. Come up with an interesting idea (property), check it out, see if it hangs together and if not, look at ways of improving, amending, making it different. Framework a little spongy? Groundwork creaky? Location not quite right? Overall structure sagging in the middle like an old carthorse?
With a house, you can call in a gang of men with hammers to put it right. With a storyline, not quite so much.
Decide the (lengthy) job of re-working will be (a) doubtful in outcome (b) dangerous to pocket, life, relationship and pride, and (c) likely to end in disaster on so many levels. So suck in cheeks and shake head. Walk away, uncork a bottle and think of something else.
Just like writing. Except that deciding why I'm not happy with a story idea before completion is my decision alone. There's a certain pride in doing that.
On the house side, saw some interesting properties; some good, one scary, one beyond salvation... and most lacking the indefinable wow factor that makes you salivate and reach for the chequebook and oxygen.
But there was one... now that's a keeper. Lost sleep over that.
A little like the idea that eventually makes it past all the doubts and pitfalls to fruition and lands on my agent's desk as a completed project with a 'hope you like this!' message attached.
Just have to hope nobody along the line decides to play wrecker's ball and smash it to pieces.