Or is it four? I'm not sure anymore, but I'm almost done with this damn thing. I know I've officially jumped the shark when I've written a stretch of dialogue culminating in "I don't want to be arrested wearing Santa pants," and it's not supposed to be a comedy.
There is a discussion thread on the NaNoWriMo boards that asks "How do you know you are writing literary fiction?" My answer was that when someone asks you what your novel is about, all you can do is mumble something about semiotics and gender roles. (It worked for The Marriage Plot.) The truth is I like writing about heavy topics until I become painfully aware that I'm writing about heavy topics and then I have to smash it with a jackhammer of silliness. What I'm really afraid of is writing something too moralistic.
That said, I'm almost done. In less than forty-eight hours I'll be the proud owner of (another) shitty first draft.
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