The Infinite Novel

While I was sitting around thinking about my latest project (I’m making another crack at writing and revising a novel), I had a silly idea, and as so often happens, rather than dismiss it without a second thought, I thought, “Well hey, that’s kind of interesting.”

The silly idea is this: an unfinishable project, a novel that never ends, that I keep writing until I grow old and die. (I know what you’re thinking: “That didn’t get caught by your silliness filter?” To that, I say: “I have a very porous silliness filter. You know, in case that wasn’t obvious.”) The Internet makes this a lot more practical than it would otherwise be. Here’s how I see it: when I sit down to my daily writing session (thanks to Stephen King for teaching me about that, by the way; a scheduled daily writing session has done me a lot of good), I hammer out another sentence or paragraph or page or chapter of the novel. And then, I just don’t stop. I keep writing, and the story keeps unspooling itself in my mind. The major factor that’ll determine whether or not I actually attempt this is whether or not I can find a suitable premise for an infinite story. After all, I don’t want it to just be some sort of Gödelian “A Thousand and One Nights.” Some planning is obviously necessary before I even consider the idea.

More news as events warrant.

(Note: I was this close to trying to write an infinite epic poem, but then I remembered my poetic skills are confined to the writing of goofy limericks.)


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