Gut Feelings

I feel marvelously ahead on reading. I chalk it up to my tablet allowing me to read books a little more inexpensively than would otherwise be.

Right now, I'm close to the end of Lab Rat One, the second book in the Touchstone Trilogy, and I've paused for now to savor it. It's so fun! I will likely re-read this series more than once. I also started Tigerlily, the sequel to Pinelight (which I will be reviewing here tomorrow) and I really like it as well. To cap it all off, I'm about halfway through a clever little novel, book one in The Toadhouse Trilogy.

Back in the day, I used to do stuff like that, read three books at a time. I'd let my mind get comfortable in one, and later, when I picked up another one, it was always a little jarring to transition between worlds like that. Jarring, but fun. Lately, I've even been getting that same sort of feeling while editing or writing. Sometimes the characters or scenes linger long after I've shut my notebook. It's encouraging, and with 31 pages of editing to go in the draft of Book 1, it's nice to feel like I'm doing something right.

I pressed on with book 2 last night, and from this point forward will be writing in first person perspective. It's getting easier and doesn't sound as stiff. I feel like I've really found the voice of my main character, and that is a wonderful thing. Now that I've gotten all comfy with that, it does mean more editing than I anticipated, but I do feel like I've suddenly found the right direction after getting turned around in a maze. I was getting pretty frustrated before. I haven't done a test page yet, but changing the perspective feels right for me.

Don't be afraid to make changes when you really feel like you need to. When it comes to a story you really care about, gut feelings can be right a lot of the time. Of course, don't rush to change things too drastically unless you want to have more frustration later. Test the waters, try things out, and play with your story a little. You'll know if the change is right.

And now I better get to work.

Working Like I Should Be

Writers should write every day, whether they feel like it or not. When working on Book 2, I usually don't. It's changed a lot since I wrote the first semi-awful version of it ten years ago, and quite frankly, I have no idea what I'm going to do with it right now. I sort of have an idea that stems from the first book, but even that's not a complete construction. That's why this is a process.

I don't feel too inspired today, either, even though I know that once I get into editing or writing, I really get into it. That's a good thing. I'm getting lost in my own story, and to me, that means I'm really feeling it. The more that happens, the more confident I feel. Of course, lack of confidence isn't an excuse to slack off. I still have to work.

The hardest part is when I feel so dissatisfied with what I've written that I'm not sure where to take it or what to do with it. Deep down, I know that working anyway will fix the problems. It's just the absolute massiveness of it.

I started writing in the new perspective last night, when working on the raw draft of Book 2. Blech.

But it will get better, as long as I keep working.

And maybe keep making charts. Those are fun!

A Change

So I figured I'd dash this off post-workout. I've been working away at Book 2, writing a page at a time, and it's developing more nicely than I imagined it would. Still a long ways to go.

Last night, I made a decision about my books that will change them quite a bit, though for right now, until I play with a page or two, the change is only tentative. I'm changing the perspective of my books. What I have now doesn't feel quite comfy enough. This isn't something I'm going to dive into, but I hope that it will turn out well in the end. Of course, this means a more editing than I expected, but ultimately it will end up more satisfying, even if the overhaul doesn't work out. Now that I've made this tentative decision, I feel a little more excited than before, and that's always a great feeling.

The Revelations of Editing

As I get further through the manuscript I printed, I'm starting to see a pattern. I edit fewer things. I like it more. There's a definite disconnect somewhere. The beginning moves to quickly to be believable right now, and the overall effect is of two different books. But the pattern I'm starting to see in the part I'm editing is a settled one. When I write the part I'm adding to the front, and when I put in the little details that need to be everywhere else, it will feel finished. But for now, my decisions on the story are settled, and it's a pretty good feeling. I suppose that's the entire point of editing.

In other news, I think I'm going to do some redecorating around here, visually, so stay tuned for a new look. I'm also planning on adding some handbags to my Etsy shop, which has nothing to do with my book, but it's fun and occasionally brings me in a few extra bucks.

I'm psyched for the finish of my book being so near, and though I can't realistically give you a deadline, I do hope to have it out by the beginning of April as an e-book. I know, if I keep working hard and keep the hunger and focus that I need, it's going to happen, and that is what keeps me going.

I Missed A Day

Yesterday, I worked on Book 2 not at all. I didn't realize this until this morning when I realized that I also forgot to mark the squares on the chart. Oy.

I don't want to be all "this doesn't bode well" because things like this happen. I was very tired yesterday after I got off work. I did write in it today, and this is the post. I'm going to finish editing the ten pages I started yesterday. It also appears that I will have another book review for this Friday, so yay!

Okay. Off to the pages.

Everest

It's already one in the afternoon, and I haven't done much in the way of my daily goals. I've managed to fill in four blocks for each set, and that feels really good. I started book two with two scenes that had only been pictures in my head, and they're now a little more fleshed out. They still feel awkward, but it's the raw draft. It's the time for the scenes to feel odd and awkward and not quite right. It will be worked out later, but for now the process has begun. But I haven't written a page since last night.

I've also managed to edit every day, but I'll admit that the first day wasn't too efficient. I wouldn't get as much done as I wanted to, despite aiming for ten pages. To combat this, I found a big paper clip, an every day I put ten pages together and aim to just edit those. I can edit more if I want, but ten pages is the bare minimum, and it works. It feels faster and more manageable. I still haven't started today, though. I do have ten pages set aside, so maybe I'll get to it.

So far today, all I've done is this post. I'm tired. I've had like five hours of sleep, and if I were a person who relied on the movement of the muses to make me work, I'd never get anything done. I'm jumpy, irritable, and frustrated. At the very least, I haven't gotten any requests for pointless tasks.

I don't ever want to get into the mindset, no matter what setbacks I have, that my work is pointless. It isn't. I will finish and publish this book, but I promise you it is seeming easier (more depressing, but easier) to just stop. To shove this book in a drawer for never.

My brother was talking about climbers on Everest who never make the summit bid. They work for years, training. Months, climbing the mountain. They spend money. They spend their time. And too many stand on the mountain, and the summit is within sight, and they can almost stand on the top of the world and look out and know that they have conquered the ice and the cold and the thin air.

And they quit. They stop. They make the choice that they cannot keep going. Physically they're fine. Mentally, they've allowed a mountain to psych them out and drive them back down at the moment when it's almost in their grasp.

The thought of that makes me sick inside.

It's not that I don't want to give up writing this book; it's that I can't. It drives me and has for more than ten years now. That hunger is there and it is never ever satiated, and it never should be. I want this too bad to be satisfied with turning back and saying "well, I made a good go of it."

I better get to work.

I Like Charts: 31 More Days

Happy New Year!

I made two more charts for my wall, little squares that I will fill out in crayon.

One is for keeping track of things like Pippa's walks, because she's full grown now and sorta gaining more weight than I'd like her to do so.

The other is another writing chart. It has three groups of 31 squares for each group.

 One is for editing, which I am working on for the first book. Another is for working on Book 2, which I will be starting later tonight. The last is for blogging about it, because it's a good warmup and the activity that helps the other two get done.

So basically, I'll be posting every day for 31 days (the month of January, basically) so I can get more stuff done. Pretty exciting.

Book 1 is coming along nicely, and will be longer now that I've changed a scene to make it part of something longer, part of the mystery that leads to the climactic scene in the book...which just makes more questions for my characters. Making this story is so much fun, and expanding it and making it better is even more fun.

So here's to 31 days of working away at a goal. May it be an awesome 31 days.

Being Old-Fashioned

I just got rid of two characters again, and I could not be more relieved.

The difference is, these two didn't start out as main characters. They were side characters first, in an original version of the book's opening. Then they were cut out from that scene, only mentioned offhandedly by the main characters. Then they popped up again in a new part of the book, and I was gonna let them stay there.

But they didn't do anything and I never planned for them to. They were props, not even useful as diversions to throw the reader off. Just there, existing, at best to force an idea on the reader, and I'm not happy with the idea in question. 

So they had to go. Another guy is staying, but I have big plans for him as this story moves along.

It was a very quickly made, very final decision that came as I was editing the new part the other night. I printed out the manuscript and put it in a binder. I like that better because I get a better feel for things. It's more hands on. I have a red pen, and I jot things down on the page and slap sticky notes at crucial points I want to change. I discover more about the book that way. It's not on a screen, giving me eye strain. It's like working on a sculpture in soft clay. Take away here, add there, and find more hidden in the story. More possibilities.

It's old fashioned, sure. No doubt about that at all. But before I rediscovered this technique, I would always feel a little apprehensive about opening that Microsoft Word file. It was intimidating, I suppose. But with 270 pages of paper, a binder, and a red pen, I feel more comfortable with it even as it grows longer and becomes more.

It made me be able to let go of two characters who offered nothing. It's making my book more of what I imagined it to be, and I love that.

So here's to being old-fashioned. And good books, too.

A Real Excerpt This Time!

Five minutes ago I opened this page to paste an excerpt from the novel. I chickened out.

Then I did it again anyway.

So here's a bit of the book. This part hasn't been fully edited, so don't jump on me quite yet. It's just actual proof that this is a real thing. 

-----------
Anya tugged thick string that hung from the attic door. "I think there's some old albums up here." With a squeal of metal, the attic opened like a mouth in the ceiling.
"Why pictures?" Matt asked as she unfolded the ladder.
Anya climbed up. "Sometimes my family keeps more than pictures. Birth certificates and stuff, too. Maybe I'll find something. Maybe more letters."
The clatter of rain on the roof was louder up here, the dark room cooled off in the afternoon storm. The big windows let in the gray light.
A partly smushed cardboard box rested in the corner. The word "Pictures" was scrawled across the side in marker, now faded. She pulled it to a clear area on the floor and sat. Matt settled across the box from her.
The box hadn't been taped shut; rather, the four panels were tucked into each other. Anya pulled them apart, and they flipped open, flicking dust into the air. She coughed, and Matt sneezed.
"Oops," she said.
A layer of creased yellow tissue paper concealed the inside of the book from Anya's view. She pulled it away, carefully, and revealed an old photo album. The word Photographs in gold adorned the leather cover. Underneath where it had been in the box were more books, some a little newer, and newspapers lining the bottom.
"Nice find," Matt said.
Anya grinned. "Pretty cool. It might have something in it, at least." She pulled the book into her lap. She saw Matt move out of the corner of her eye as he sat beside her. The book felt dry in her hands, like the leather was about to crack. She pulled the cover open.
On the very first page an old black and white photo, yellowing at the white edges, showed a middle-aged man and his wife in front of a house, both smiling. In pencil, someone had scrawled "Pop and Mom" underneath the picture. A card with flowers printed on it was tucked into the crack of the spine.
"Think that's him?" Anya asked her friend.
"Could be," Matt said. "What's in that card?"
Anya picked it up and opened it. A short note in neat handwriting took up the inside.

"Elijah,
    My parents had this picture of your mama and daddy at the house.
    I thought you might like to have it. Please let me know if you find out
    anything more concerning our conversation last week.
           
                Best,
                Mildred"

Anya read the note over again. "Who's Mildred?"
"Well, who's Elijah?" Matt answered.
"That one's easy," Anya said. "He's my great-grampa. Elijah Dupree, so Gavin's son."
"So that means his daughter is..." Matt trailed off.
"My granny." Anya cleared her throat. "She married a McCall." Anya placed the card back into the edge and carefully turned the page again. More pictures followed, all of them old and sepia toned or black and white. She paused on one of a little girl sitting on the same porch in the first photograph. A different hand had written "Jeannie" underneath. Anya smiled.
The rest of the pictures, of family dinners and days at the beach and one of her Granny dressed up and standing stiffly beside some boy, filled the remainder of the book. The last few pages were Christmas pictures, all of a tree in a living room. There was Jeannie again, a little older, and a few other young people. Anya's gaze paused on one detail of the photograph, a frame beside the tree. It didn't look like a picture, but there were words. She pointed at it.
"What do you think that is?" she said.
"Any pictures closer than that?" Matt asked.
Anya turned the page. "Might be." The rest of the photos were all of a Christmas tree, and all of Jeannie beside it, older each year. The frame appeared in each one, but the pictures varied in distance. The last photograph of the book was a group picture, with a much older Gavin Dupree seated in an armchair and surrounded by family. A few branches of the Christmas tree protruded into the edge of the photo, and the same frame in the other pictures hung above the chair, just over Jeannie's head. The words in the frame were a nonsense poem.

I'll sell you a riddle for a dime
said the bishop at the chime.
With tables and ravens and eggs on a wall
and diamonds and pennies and keys and all
the top of the tower pressed down to fall
my riddle is finished sir; what is your call?

Matt leaned in closer. "What is that?" he asked.
Anya frowned. "I think it's one of those sampler things." That poem doesn't make any sense... "Wonder what it means?"
Matt shrugged. "Maybe nothing?"
"Maybe," Anya said. "I mean, samplers like that were usually meant to just show off skills and stuff...Might be more, though. Some weird government code or something."
"Think whoever made it was crazy?" Matt asked with a smirk.
Anya laughed. "Maybe." Anya shut the book and peeked into the box at the rest of the stack. The yellowed newsprint caught her eye again. "Sweet, old newspapers." She hefted the remaining books and set them to the side before pulling the soft old paper into her lap.  The date in the corner was March 3, 1972.
"Pioneer 10 Launched" read the headline in big letters.
"Cool," Matt said.
"Seriously." They quieted and read the article silently. The block of text took up half the front page, and at the end, in a tiny bit of dead space, were more words, handwritten.

It wasn't insanity. They found other stars first.

Anya blinked and looked at Matt. He met her gaze.
"What the heck does that mean?" she said.
"Are there any other pieces?" Matt asked.
"Nope." Anya let the paper slide to the attic floor. She reached for another album and pulled the cover open as Matt folded the paper. "Let's look through the rest of these," she said.
"Okay."

The photographs moved forward in time as they progressed through the books. One of the last ones even showed Anya as a little girl, sitting on a porch swing with one of her cousins. The embroidered sample appeared on the wall in several of the pictures, sometimes only a corner, but always in the pictures of that wall. The next to last picture showed a different room in color, the wood paneling on the walls lending a dimness to the scene of a family together, some in Christmas sweaters. The sampler was on this wall, too.
The last picture had the same room, same paneling, and some of the same people, older now, and a few new faces in the frame.
The sampler was gone. Not replaced by anything; the wall was empty.
She poked at the glossy paper. "It's gone."
"Maybe they moved it." Matt closed the book in his lap.
"Maybe." What did those words mean, and who wrote them? Anya sighed. "Do you know what time it is?"
Matt looked down at his watch. "Two o'clock."
She tilted her head. "Wanna go to the library with me?"
Matt shrugged. "Sure. What for?"
"Family research." Anya grinned and stuck the old newspaper back where it had rested for so long, then followed it with the stack of albums. "Might be some cool stuff." She stood.
"I still swear I've heard Dupree's name somewhere," Matt said as Anya backed down the ladder. "Not sure where, though."
Anya smiled. "Maybe we'll find out."

------------------------------

Rough, but an actual thing I'm pretty excited about. And editing now. 

Hunger

I'm excited because I've reached the first peak in this stage of the novel, which involves editing. This was editing at its most basic form, correcting spelling errors and problems with capitalization and punctuation that resulted from me only typing fast without stopping to clean things up a bit. So that's done, and officially the book has 58,052 words.

It's one annoying peak, but there are a few more ahead. There's at least one more scene I need to write from scratch, and there's a lot of refining that needs going at the end. In my haste, those parts ended up choppy. Part of that is the main character and how she thinks. A lot of it isn't.

Maybe you've read a little about the iPhone's development history. The phone was almost done. They'd put the thing together. It was a phone, a nice, sleek, gorgeous Apple product that was, on the outside, a whole package.

On the inside, it didn't work.

Steve Jobs said, "We don't have a product yet."

Well, I don't have a book yet. There are almost 60,000 words of what is structured like a book. What looks like a manuscript. The manuscript contains a story. There's even a name, and I toy with cover design ideas in my head.

But I don't have a book yet.

I'm close, but one thing I won't do is publish now. It's not ready. There's stuff I need to say, and although I now have what I can call a rough draft, it needs to cook.

I'm pretty excited, though. The first draft is finished, and the story is cooking.

And, I must say, I'm pretty hungry.

Fun With Editing

As I write this, the second draft of my book, as I proceed through the first round of editing, is 52,027 words long.

I'm pretty excited about that number, because while I'm getting close to the end, I'm not there yet. That means the book will be long, but not too long. The other week I put together an estimate draft of all the rough pieces, not altered at all, copied and pasted into one document, just to see. It had 52,269 words.

Yes, I did add some story at the beginning, to ground the main characters and allow a picture of them at the most normal their life will ever be for the rest of the story.

I'm excited that this book is getting longer than I thought it would be, and intimidated by the fact that other books in the genre have more words. The Hunger Games, for example, has around 90,000. I Googled that, by the way. I don't nerd that much.

Me and editing have a love/hate relationship. I love that the story is taking shape and becoming more of what I want it to be. I hate that I can't just turn out the perfect book in one shot, but that's really not possible.

So it's been quiet on my end because I've been trying to truly finish this book. This draft is for working out all the typos that resulted when I typed from the raw draft and only focused on getting words on the screen. Working at an insane pace means I can get to the meaty editing, where all the story kinks will be worked out. Hopefully that means I'll have some bits at the beginning of the book, which I'll up here and probably on Wattpad or something. Fiction Press, too, if I feel so inclined. Once I'm happy with it, it's time for formatting and cover design, because this baby's gonna be an e-book first. Then I'll dive into print book design.

Whee.

Also, it's Friday. Who doesn't love that?

So Little and Yet So Much

This post will be very short.

I'm currently in the editing process, and hoping to have some actual excerpts of the finished product up soon. I found this poem from a Lovecraft story I haven't read yet. When I read it, the poem felt so fitting with my book, its plot, and the ideas therein. It's from the story Polaris. Please enjoy.

    "Slumber, watcher, till the spheres,
    Six and twenty thousand years
    Have revolv'd, and I return
    To the spot where now I burn.
    Other stars anon shall rise
    To the axis of the skies;
    Stars that soothe and stars that bless
    With a sweet forgetfulness:
    Only when my round is o'er
    Shall the past disturb thy door."

It's Halloween for Reals!

And so begins the Christmas season.

I'm not even joking. I'm seeing Christmas commercials y'all.

And I really really love it.

Tonight, we'll prop the door open for any  kids who will actually be trick or treating, assuming the weather is good. It was pretty nasty last year, rainy and cold. This year it's just cold, which is perfect Halloween weather.

I don't do the whole Reformation Day thing. I am neither Catholic nor Protestant, and besides, my faith holds that salvation comes through Christ, not your denomination, creed, music preferences, or Sunday morning traditions.

So Happy Halloween!

I'm planning Christmas presents out right now, including the big one to myself, the goal of having my novel in print by Christmas. No, I didn't manage it by my birthday. It'll still be good, and maybe even better now.

I'm also getting together ideas for desserts on Thanksgiving. It's gonna be held at my house again this year, and I have a couple of additions to the usual chocolate chip cookies.

This year, I will be making what have been lovingly named Unicorn Poop and Angel Turds (the latter of which was spoken last year.) Don't worry, they're harmless. Unicorn poop is rainbow sugar cookies, with all sorts of sparklies and color and shimmer. Angel turds are mini red velvet cupcakes, with regular white icing, green sprinkles, and mini-chocolate chips. You can see where the name might have come from (and I didn't make it up.)

The sugar cookies are a recipe online. They actually look like less work than the kosher apple cake I made one year, which was delicious, but time-consuming.

So Happy Halloween and here's to an awesome upcoming Christmas season!

Typing is Fun!

I just typed a new part. Completely new.

I feel like that's pretty significant because for the last year, I've been typing things in a disjointed, unorganized way. It stunk, and I didn't connect with any of it.

But today, I'm totally connecting. Despite some moments in the past few days where I've felt like the book isn't going to work, actually seeing these words on a screen is pretty cool.

Last night I wrote out a last scene to close the first book. It needs work, but it's there, and I like that it's there.

I have this warm and fuzzy feeling about it. Granted, that also might be because it's October, the weather is gorgeous, and my fiance is moving down here next week.

I think I'll just say that this book is one of the many reasons for the warm fuzzies right now.

I am hoping that in the next few days, I can have some excerpts up for you. Some good ones. Not from the first version of the book, but from this new one.

It's really looking like I will have this book ready by my birthday, and it will be available on Smashwords and Amazon for the digital version. I'll announce when it's ready.

Which will be soon.

Yay!

Oops

I was so ambitious to see the end of the book that I finished.

And then today, at the doctor's office, I thought of another scene I need to add. At the end. It's important, and would wrap up the plot while providing an opening for the sequels.

But where was it the other day, when I left the two main characters sort of hanging?

I don't really know. I took a day off from my book to do some professional stuff. In all honesty, I'm a little frustrated with myself. I got all excited, but there's a couple of pages stil to go, at the very least.

*sigh*

I guess, it did serve as a warning that I said I was sort of finished.

Back to work.

Yet Another Late Post

This one will be short.

I got well over ten pages written today. The climactic scene is in sight! Not even joking.

Like I said, I expect to be done this weekend.

This is fun.

Closer and Closer

It's the last day of 30 Days, 30 Posts, 30 Chapters. I have not written thirty chapters, but I did write every day. I'm quite glad this turned out as well as it did.

It's also the second day of 14 Days to Book. I stayed up way too late last night watching Red Dawn, finding a stopping point, and making a chart with crayons.

Sorry, I just love charts. And the 80s. I tiredly informed my fiance last night as well that, alas, in an alternate universe, his town didn't survive the 1980s.

I am that kind of tired, ladies and gentlemen.

And yes. I have written today, in the speckled white and black notebook. I have now reached the exact middle of it. Literally. The stitching and all. It's looking more and more like the end of the book will need to be finished in another notebook that's got some nice big space and a lot of messiness at the front. But for today, counting the double-sided sheets plus two half-pages put together, I've written five pages in a notebook, and will continue to write some more after lunch. Yesterday I got something like ten pages written. I haven't done that in forever. It's paying off. I am seriously so excited, because I am so close to the end. Not within five pages or anything, but this is building to the climax.

Horror Vacui is still free, and you don't even have to have an account on Smashwords to download it. I only ask that you review it if you can.

Now that the end of the book is in sight, you know what comes next...excerpts! Good ones, I promise, though I may have some horrible little bits of the original novel posted this week. That's just too much fun.