And We’re Back!

Not like I intended to leave in the first place, but being in pain will do funny things to your productivity. And make no mistake, I was in pain. A lot of it. I’ll spare the delicate nature of what went down, but suffice it to say that I had a lot of pain in a very sensitive place, and it ended up necessitating surgery. Minimally invasive, outpatient surgery, but surgery nonetheless – itself very painful, painful enough to cut through the general anesthesia. So you have two weeks before surgery and two weeks after for recovery and you get to the month we’ve had since the last entry. But I have not abandoned you, dear reader, and I have not abandoned my work. In fact, since Sunday I’ve been back to the grindstone better than ever.

I believe I’ve mentioned my latest project, a relatively straightforward horror novel. The interesting thing is that, as part of this project, I’ve developed a new method of drafting that seems to mitigate my worst habits. But let me back up.

One of the biggest stumbling blocks with my novels in the past has been my tendency to get three-quarters of the way through a story and realizing that it’s not working in its current form. I mean, hell, Corridors of the Dead was a different book altogether at first, with a different protagonist, which I retooled entirely. Room 3 went through several different iterations and a complete rewrite, as did Room 3 and Came to Believe, which is still stuck in Clusterfuckistan and may not make it out for another year or so. Clearly, the idea of doing the bare minimum of planning then diving in and adjusting on the fly was not working. Came to Believe even had a relatively complete plan before I started drafting, but it still fell victim to the same problems. So half-planning didn’t work, and going by the seat of my pants definitely didn’t work. A new approach was needed. I went down the full-on planning road.

So far it’s working out. As often happens, I quickly realized that problems with the POV character would necessitate a change in protagonists and in the dynamic of some relationships. I also learned that the first protagonist was kind of a cypher, somewhat boring. Another character stepped to the front of the stage, and the second draft of the plot has been all about her. In the course of creating this second draft, I’ve realized that there are pacing issues that can be shored up here and there, which will be addressed in the third draft. But I think you see where I’m going: in the past I might have written 75 to 100K words before discovering the protagonist didn’t work, which would necessitate a months-long total rewrite. In this case, I discovered it within 15,000 words of the plot, and the update is going to take a couple of weeks. And again I might have gotten through that second 75 to 100k word round and discovered the pacing didn’t work, so now I have to insert a chapter here and there then go through the text again to account for any ripple effects. Cue another six months or so. As it stands now, my plot is about 22,000 words, but again it will only take a week or two to insert the new chapters and adjust accordingly. By the time I’m finished, I’ll have a pretty good skeleton of the story that will be pretty easy to drape flesh over.

I’m hopeful enough about this new process that I’ve already started brainstorming another story idea and am allowing that to develop organically. I’m not ready to fully talk about that one yet, but it involves YouTube wannabes and a long-lost abandoned town in the mountains.

Anyway, thanks to those of you who have stuck around all this time. I can’t promise that the road will be clear from here on out, but I am doing my damnedest to stay on it. Hopefully you see some more fiction from me sooner rather than later.

Summer’s End

Happy end of the month, everyone. And sort of the end of Summer, or at least “conventional” Summer, though the calendar tells us it’s not over for another 22 days or so. In my heart, Labor Day, nah, even September 1st, is the end of Summer, for September and October (and to a lesser extent November) are a sacred time for me. And it’s interesting that my creativity is usually at its peak during this time. I’m definitely looking forward to Autumn this year, as I think it will be very productive.

First of all, thoughts and prayers to everyone in Texas. I’m not usually one for demonstrative presentations of things like this (or in general), but I’ve been watching the situation with increasing horror and am looking for the best way to help out from a distance. Definitely keeping an eye on things.

On a more personal note, the theme of the last week has been “transition”. We’re now getting settled into our permanent address in Lake St. Louis, and are about three-fourths of the way through unpacking. The move is certainly feeling interminable, but I think a good push over the three-day weekend will go a long way to getting it knocked out. We also got our new licenses and registrations, along with registering to vote (very important), so we’re now officially official. It’s been a tiring process, but the relocation has been good for my psyche, and I think for Mary’s, as well.

Big news on the writing front: I finished my self-critique for Came to Believe on the evening of the 24th and soon began writing (I hope) the final draft. How’s that for transition? I’m even happy with the rewritten intro paragraphs, which is a rarity in my writing. Always trying to nail down that beginning, that’s for sure.

I’ve learned a lot from the lengthy process of writing this novel. One of my biggest writing weaknesses is getting deep into a novel and realizing that the plot scope is not quite what I had in mind, or that another plot thread would be stronger as the central pillar. Because of this weakness, I’ve had to rewrite pretty much every one of my books mid-stream, which costs me time and sanity.

 

With this in mind, my sincere hope moving forward is that I can nail these details in plotting and then have a clean and simple drafting process. Plotting must do the heavy lifting because we’re talking about editing 20 to 25 pages versus 300 or so once I’m fully into the novel. The plan is to run through three to five drafts of the plot up front, from the rough initial draft to increasingly structured outlines that match story beats with character information and ensure that important plot points get covered.

From there I can break it down and read through it as a “critique”, incorporate those edits, rinse and repeat with the outline, to ensure I’ve hit every beat and that no subplots are superfluous. It may take a month to get through, but again a month > a year with rewrites.

I’m already into this new process with the next book, a horror story with the premise of increasing human expansion bumping into ancient evil. Sure, it’s been done, but I think I have an interesting spin on it by including modern technology in the mix. I also want to test out some of my more surreal modes of writing through the story. The goal with this one is to be super-lean, tight, and compact. Something that can be done in a hurry and doesn’t sprawl on for 100,000 words. We’ll see if I can pull it off.

Anyway, hope everyone has a great weekend, and a long one if you’re lucky enough to get Monday off. See you next week.

Don’t Call it a Comeback

Or do, if you wish. Either way, I’m happy to be back and among the productive. To tell the story of the last three years of my life would be a lesson in tedium, anxiety, and stress – the kind of caustic stuff that melts the creative impulse. I’m still not fully back on my feet, owing to a move to a new city and a new office, but almost as soon as we set foot on Missouri soil, the juices started flowing again. Memories flooded back; I remember what it felt like to create, to let my fingers dance over the keys and channel the words like some shaman. How nice it was to tap into the creative force underlying the universe, or whatever you want to call it.

In short, the last few years have sucked. We underwent what seemed to be a layoff (only to get my job back at the last moment), not one but two mergers, and an extended period of unease and uncertainty regarding relocation. Our – and I very much include my loving wife in this – lives seemed to be suspended in mid-air. At first I was able to write through this, push it aside and keep going, but as I watched friends exit at work and found myself increasingly isolated in an empty building, I had a hard time bringing my focus back to writing at the end of the day. All I wanted to do was go home and shut the world out, whether it be through reading, video games, or other pursuits.

In the end, a combination of factors brought the muse back to me. One, reading through Mark Frost’s A Secret History of Twin Peaks. It contains a lot of the conspiracy lore and mythos-building that drew me to writing my first few novels, and it reminded me of the promise of weaving my own reality within fiction. It also reminded me of the power of magick, and of seizing control of the reins of your life. It didn’t take long to start to feel the pull toward something new, a framework that helped me to put my chaotic thoughts into some semblance of order.

Then came, of course, the move. While he had relocation assistance and support, it’s hard to imagine a more “seize the day” act than packing up the car and moving across half the country to see if it will all work out.

I came to realize that I had become…well, passive is not the right word. We wanted to relocate from the moment either of the two mergers were announced. More that I had resigned myself to hunkering down and letting fate whip me where it would, so long as it ended with us out of the DC area (something that both of us very much wanted). And so I became less an author of my fate than a pawn at the hands of people with much larger agendas. At some point I lost sight of the fact that I had made this choice to wait and hand things over, and became depressed and resigned. That’s when my output dropped. I think I can pinpoint it to March or April of this year, somewhere in there, because there is a steady downward curve in my word count until July, when I barely wrote at all.

Now, though? I’m back, I think. I’m currently five pages short of finishing my “critique” of Came to Believe, at which point I’ll go back and make the suggested changes and try to hammer it out. Given the massive delays (we’re just about at year four of working on this thing and I want it out the door), I’m likely just going to self-publish it, but we’ll see how I feel when I get there. In the meantime, I’m plotting the antithesis of this story, a quick, pulpy horror novel that I think will be a blast to write.

In the meantime, I intend to check in with you guys more often. Thanks to those of you who are still with me. We’ll see where this ride goes next…

Status Update: Not Much to Update

Well, folks, I’ll own it: seasonal writers’ block is here. Much like Seasonal Affective Disorder, I suffer through a bit of a block around the end of October/beginning of November every year, like clockwork. In the past I relied on lots of light therapy to carry me through, but this year, for some reason, I thought I would be immune. I guess I was falling back on my output being so much higher this year?

Anyway, I was clearly wrong. I’m struggling.

Now keep in mind that my “struggling” still looks like 10,000 words a week, but I need more than that to get through Chapter 25 in anything resembling a timely fashion. I’m back on the light therapy, but I’m not sure how effective it will be over the next few days. So right now I don’t have too much to report past where I was the last time we talked about Chapter 25: working through the first draft. The good news is that it looks to be a relatively short chapter, but I don’t expect to get it finished until December. It sucks, but I’m trying to be patient with myself and not force things. We’ll see where it goes as I ramp up the light therapy. Until then…well, I’m just doing my best. See you Monday.

Status Report: On Skulls and Disappearing Characters

Time for the bi-weekly status report! Work is coming along rather well; as I had hoped, I finally tied the ribbon on the fourth and final draft of Chapter 24 on Tuesday. Thank God. It’s a vitally important chapter (but then again aren’t they all), but it’s also the longest one, or perhaps that’s a result of its importance, I don’t know. Almost 20 pages double-spaced. It took 26 days of real time, or 14 hours of pure, concentrated writing and editing time. By far the longest and most complex of chapters in this iteration of the novel. Not sad to say goodbye, though I will certainly revisit it during the “critique” phase.

Currently in the early phase of the first draft of Chapter 25. This is where I dream up individual pieces and snippets from the planned chapter and write them out in pieces – a quote here, an action there. It usually takes two or three days to get to the point of stitching them together, but once I do, boom! First draft done. That’s scheduled to wrap up on the 4th, but it could be done more quickly, depending on the length of the chapter. Hard to say at this stage, and I don’t have a solid timeframe on how long the chapter will take, though my goal is Thanksgiving, which is somewhat aggressive given how busy my workload will be at the office. We’ll see.

In the meantime, I’m giving thought to characters and “subplots” that either don’t add anything or never went anywhere as the story evolved. At least two characters will no longer exist by the time this book releases, with a third mentioned in passing only. Just the nature of the beast.

Still, crazy to think that I’m working on the final first draft of Came to Believe. The next first draft will be in service of Lindsay’s novel, which remains unnamed at the moment. Probably some riff on the first one, like “Verb to Noun.” “Stopped to Relieve”.

Anyway, that’s where I am for this week…talk to you again soon and have a Happy Halloween.

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Innocence Found: Purcell Park and Came to Believe

It’s no secret that Stephen King is one of my biggest influences, so I suppose it’s appropriate that he’s made me re-think things. I follow King on Twitter and have been enjoying his tweets about Molly, aka the Thing of Evil. They’ve been great as a fan and, more importantly as an author, in that they made me re-assess my interactions with current and potential readers.

Looking back, this site suffers from the lack of a personal touch. In those rare times where I’ve put the focus on something other than my fiction or the act of writing itself, it’s been to talk about myself in relation to the craft. This includes writing about influences, detailing personal development within the craft itself, and other writing-related topics. I’ve kept you at arms length. Now I’ve never been a “look at me” kind of person, owing to some negative early experiences, and I tend to think that stories should speak for themselves, but I also like to get glimpses into some of my favorite authors’ lives. So, I figured, why not open up a bit, share some things, especially when they intersect with my fiction?

You can expect a blend of slice-of-life and status posts, but I also want to talk about the sights and scenery of the Shenandoah Valley, especially as they relate to locations in Came to Believe and the other forthcoming books in the series. This is not so removed from my personal life as it first appears, as I grew up in the Valley and feel much of its history in my bones; I didn’t appreciate the place growing up, but these days it’s clear just how much it’s shaped and informed my worldview, for better or worse.

This week we’ll start with the very first scene of Came to Believe.

“I said, ‘where are we’?” Her voice had gotten a little higher this time, with a hint of panic at the edges.

 

Answer her, his weak side urged, but still he said nothing. He switched off the headlights and slowed to a crawl, studying the houses that lined the street. The neighborhood backed up to Purcell Park, with its towering oaks, baseball diamonds, and jungle gyms. The park was his destination, and while it might seem suspect to take a teenaged hooker there for business, he had few remaining options for such an encounter.

Here we meet Dean Rohrer, a dentist with a penchant for prostitutes who is taking what is to be his last “pleasure cruise” into Purcell Park, a sprawling blend of multi-purpose fields, picnic shelters, and playgrounds located near the heart of Harrisonburg, Virginia. The park opened in 1954 and is home to a “Kid’s Castle” that was installed sometime in the 80s and was likely part of the reason I went there so often, typically as part of group outings.

Purcell

My memories of these outings are somewhat hazy, though they often involved picnics, baseball, and, of course, said Kids Castle. There may also have been a girl involved, but that memory is hazy at best.

Kids_Castle

I can’t speak for other kids who used that Castle, but it sure put the fear of tight spaces into my heart. I was never a small kid, in weight or height, so it was always a snug fit at best, “age-appropriate clearance” or not. As a result, I didn’t spend a ton of time in the castle itself. My time was better spent roaming through the emptier back fields and trails, stopping for a softball game here or a baseball game there; mostly, however, I wanted to soak in the isolation of the place. What can I say? I was an only child and used to solitude. I loved to break away from the group and wander through the empty spaces.

This sense of solitude and peace, more than anything else, is what drove me to select Purcell for the book. Sure, I could have gone with Hillandale Park, where I was offered my first cigarettes and most definitely had an encounter or two with a girl, but therein lie the problem: I had imbued the place with such a sense of sleaze over the years that it felt too obvious, too dangerous. I preferred the idea of him “corrupting” a location, as it would also offer the opportunity to “redeem” it in the future.

Ultimately, this is all subjective and down to my personal experience. I’m sure a lot of people had quite different experiences with the park in question, but I needed to operate on this level to get the appropriate emotional tone.

As a footnote, I revisited the place during the early drafting stages. As always, everything looked smaller, especially that Castle, but the memories came flooding back. I was also dismayed to see that things had decayed quite a bit, but there’s a revival underway for the place, which warms my heart. So much of Harrisonburg’s history is vanishing in the name of progress that it’s good to see some preservation efforts. Let’s hope it’s enough.

kidscastle2

Oh, one more thing before I go. On November 7th, I’ll be participating in the Extra Life gaming marathon to raise money for the University of Virginia Children’s Hospital, and your donations are greatly appreciated. I plan to stream at least some of the marathon, where applicable, at http://www.twitch.tv/workingdogv1. I’ll be posting a schedule in the coming days. In the meantime, I’d be ever so grateful if you’re able to donate to the cause. Even $1 will help. You can donate by going to my Extra Life page. If you’re interested in participating, I can also answer any questions you might have and point you in the right direction. Thanks in advance to everyone who helps to make this event a successful one.

Next week I’ll talk a little about Halloween in the Shenandoah Valley; specifically, what that was like when I was growing up. Hope to see you then.

Checking in – Mid-October Edition

So I promised in my most recent entry that I would be checking in with you guys more often, and this is the proof in the pudding. A complete update on where Came to Believe currently stands and where I think we’re going next.

I’m currently working my way through the largest chapter in the book, Chapter 24. This is the penultimate chapter, in which we finally learn Lindsay’s (she’s the protagonist’s love interest but so much more) dark secret and see them reconcile, taking tentative steps toward a relationship. It’s an important chapter, though I’m guilty of thinking that whatever chapter I might be working on is the most important in the novel. Unfortunately it is actually the longest, and is taking the most time to complete (I’m at 25 days with another draft to go, which blows away the next-largest chapter). There’s just no way to break the thing down into coherent chunks, so it’s all at once or nothing, I’m afraid.

I’m hoping to have the fourth draft done by the end of next week, but that may be a pipe dream. That would align me to finish the novel sometime in the second week of November, at which point I start incorporating critique group comments. Once those are done, it’s time to let the book simmer and start the next novel, which features Lindsay as the protagonist. We’ll talk more about that in the coming weeks.

All told, Came to Believe has taken roughly 26 months to complete. Longest time to finish a novel by far, but keep in mind that I’ve written enough material to have a good chunk of the next novel complete, along with a hypothetical future novel that revolves around Dean once again. So the process may end up shortening later works, which would be a godsend. It’s been an interesting journey, transformative to say the least, but I’ll talk about that in the future as well.

For now, we’ll leave it here and see where I am on the 30th. Hopefully I’ll have something good to report. Until then, I’m a squirrel.

Squirrel

A Bad Idea

Having another in a long chain of busy weeks, so I’ll keep the update brief and novel-focused today. Hit the halfway point on the second draft of Chapter 18 yesterday and I’m feeling good about its development. Should be one of those chapters that is good for review after the third draft, which is always a pleasant surprise. Some are more difficult than others. The current schedule looks like I’ll get to Chapter 19 right around Memorial Day week, which leaves the actual start date somewhere up in the air, as Mary and I are going on vacation that week. Sometimes I write on vacations, but I’ve found that weeks off can also be beneficial, so we’ll see how that all shakes off.

I’ve been setting long-term goals lately and I’m going to be doing my damnedest to get the initial version of the novel done by Labor Day weekend (the second anniversary of its creation). That gives me about 12 weeks to get through 6 chapters. Tight schedule, but doable with a good project plan. From there it goes to beta readers in early September and then on to my editor in early October, after which I’ll start shopping it around for an agent. I’m hoping to place it by the end of the year, but clearly that’s out of my hands beyond the submission process. I’m not sure when you’ll get the final version in your hands, but I think the delays have been worth it so far.

Speaking of release and previews and whatnot, my good friend Mary Doyle tagged me on a “777” challenge last week, wherein you’re supposed to share 7 sentences from page 7 of your work in progress, and tag seven other writers to share their own. I knew that would be a challenging portion of the novel, but I went for it. Unfortunately, it didn’t go so well. Didn’t get many comments or likes and no one took up the challenge, the sort of thing that’ll make a writer incredibly insecure, especially when you’ve poured the better part of two years into a book.

It sounds odd, but the good news is that the sentences came across as kind of creepy and weird; I say good because it’s not a reflection on the novel itself, but rather the format. As Mary (the wife, not Doyle) pointed out, Dean seemed like a serial killer in the posted snippet, one who was leading a naive 16-year-old girl into an abandoned park. Robbed of context, it had quite the sinister air. Now, Dean is many things at the opening of the novel – a womanizer, a snob, and a total asshole, but he’s not a rapist and/or killer. I mean, there’s skeevy and then there’s SKEEVY. He’s the former, not the latter.

Concerned about the long-term health of the novel, I shared the first three chapters with Mary (again, the wife) and she liked them, agreeing that context was essential to understanding the scene. Wipe the sweat from my brow on that one.

So, yeah, note to self, never share this kind of stuff without proper context, as it can come across quite disastrously. Strictly proper previews from here on out, and you’ll be the first to know. Live and learn, and whatnot.

Anyway, back to other matters. Catch you next week.

Gimme That (Old?) Time Religion

Hey everybody, it’s Wednesday, and you know what that means. That’s right, blog time!

I have a few things to talk about this week, but let’s start with the status update. Last week I had just finished Chapter 17 and planned to move on to Chapter 18 and…that’s where I remain. I’ve made some progress, just not as much as I would prefer, as the critique group intervened on the latter half of the week.

And that’s okay! I get so much value out of the experience that it’s not exactly a sacrifice. I got through the work with nary a scratch and traveled to the dreaded Baltimore for the meeting. As you can see, the place was in flames and I’m lucky to have gotten out with my life:

Baltimore2

 

Anyway, Chapter 18. I would like to be farther along, but the last few days have been focused on honing the chapter’s opening paragraphs. The problem? It felt too non-committal, too vague, which happens when your protagonist is blasted out of his minds on benzos. The scene needed juice, but how to get it? Ah, of course: look at it from the point of view of a critique. One thing never really added up, and it provided a hook for the scene. You see, Lindsay takes Dean to her place and Dean’s knowledge of the street on which she lives makes him a little uneasy. That prompted the question, how did he know of the street’s reputation, and what about it made him uneasy?

The street itself doesn’t have a bad reputation back home; my impression is entirely based on my own experiences. So why not share Dean’s experiences? It would give the reader more backstory and increase his anxiety about what might happen. That pushed things forward, and now I’m up to the part where he sees her apartment for the first time. Hopefully I can get farther in the next few days.

Now that other item that I wanted to talk about. I want to share a quick…well, ‘response’ is not quite the right word. Inspired post? Maybe that’ll work. On Saturday I was sitting around waiting for breakfast when this wonderful post from my friend Aniko Carmean popped up. I tried to write a few responses on her site, but they all felt kind of flat. The thing is, she was bravely sharing about a spiritual matter in her life, and everything felt like an empty pat on the back rather than a one-to-one relation. Thinking more about it, I realized it was a blog post. So…here you go. But first, read her post, it’s a good one.

Aniko, I get you. I’ve always been a spiritual seeker, and felt that hollow space in my life for a long time. I grew up Mormon, though we weren’t the most devout of members (at least until I was about eight years old). Still, even without being devout, I felt that I had some answers about what the afterlife looked like, what it meant to be spiritual, and the general shape of my “religious life”, for lack of a better term, going forward.

Then my teen years happened and, as teenagers often do, I found myself dissatisfied with the answers. Problem was, I looked around at my friends and most seemed pretty happy with what they had. My Baptist friends went to their church…well, religiously, and believed in the doctrine. Same for my Mennonite friends. And so on. It seemed that most people had not only been given a formula for spiritual happiness, but accepted it and found happiness. Age has revealed my situation to be far from unique, but it was a scary place as a kid growing up in the Bible Belt.

Maybe I didn’t have the right set of answers. I attended the Baptist church, sat in with the Mennonites, Brethren, Apostolic, Catholic, Seventh Day Adventist…. I would have gone to mosque or temple or whatever else if they had been available to a poor rural kid in the 90s. I craved one of two things: either a “peak experience”, that one moment of insight, the universal curtain pulled back; or a sense of spiritual satisfaction.

Both proved elusive.

I turned to other methods of pursuing it as I got older, from drugs to meditation to magick, and while meditation proved beneficial, none of them got me to where I wanted to be. Still I had that aching spiritual hole, and I ended up acting in desperate and self-destructive ways as a result of this absence. Things didn’t change until I started attending 12-step meetings. Though the concept is usually accused of centering on Christian values, I found that it fused my mindfulness lessons with some Buddhist philosophies. I don’t know if it was the system itself or simply being in the right place and right time in my life, but it brought me to a place where I finally started to achieve that peace. I learned how to be happy with what I had, to accept that I can’t control everything (or even most things), and to look for the beauty in the moment.

My understanding has continued to evolve, and I’ve since learned that my temple, my church, is right here, on the page. The sanctuary for my soul is literally at my fingertips. Writing is my form of communion, a connection with the beauty that underlies life and what some might call God, or the universe. I prefer to think of it as the initial creative impulse. I’ve given up on a precise definition for my beliefs. This very absence defines the one thing that has eluded me this whole time: an understanding that you can’t (or at least I can’t) “pin down” a religious experience. It’s ephemeral by its very nature, a butterfly flitting from one petal to another. Each of those experiences over the year was my religious practice, whether it happened in a pristine chapel or a dirty basement, under a Protestant roof or a Catholic tent. The very pursuit was an authentic religious experience, with my obsessive quest for some sort of resolution or ending as a fools’ errand, focusing on the finger rather than the stars to which it points.

I’m not always happy or sedate. I have my bad days like anyone else, but I do at least have some refuge to which I can return on a consistent basis. I would worry about what happens when it goes away, but what is the point of that? The moment is what matters. That’s all I need, literally, for right now.

Anyway, enough rambling. Hopefully that made some semblance of sense. If not, I’ll be back next week with a lot less ramble. See you then.

Just Like Starting Over

Happy Wednesday, everybody, hope your week’s going well so far? Mine’s going okay, certainly better than the last few weeks. No sprained knee (well, still sprained, but feeling much better), and no cold. Some allergies, but hey, it’s Spring, and at least it comes along with the annual Springtime energy boost.The rites of Spring, you know: flowering trees, watery eyes, and 10,000 words a week. Or something like that.

Work on Came to Believe is moving along at a much quicker pace these days. Finished Chapter 17 yesterday, which brought the incubation time to a little over two weeks. Sounds slow, but believe me, it’s a major improvement on the debacle of Chapter 16.

So this means that self-edits on Chapter 17 are knocked out and to the critique group. Then the beta readers and editor and so on. I think that means the chapter will have gone through six or seven drafts by the time it reaches your hands? Anyway, we’re all about the rigorous quality control over here, that’s what I’m trying to say. The chapter came out better than expected, as digs into Lindsay’s more awkward (and endearing) qualities and draws the reader closer to understanding her, all the while showing a growing self-awareness in Dean’s head.

Stepped a bit outside the box on this one by doing something I had not done before: for a brief moment I separated the narrator from Dean’s headspace. Here’s the deal: at this point Dean is starting to experience new emotions, but he doesn’t have the emotional intelligence to sort through them or to even begin to put words to what they mean. Normally I’d just refer to them as an amorphous blob that he didn’t understand, but in this chapter his actions are kind of inscrutable without understanding the ambivalence he’s suffering. So I took the risk. I ran the idea (and the paragraphs) by a few people and they thought it worked okay, but we’ll really see if it pays off when I put it to the critique group. I just don’t want to risk the reader losing their connection to the character. We shall see.

Next up is Chapter 18, which I’ve described before, I believe. This is the scene where Dean goes back to Lindsay’s place for the first time and gets his first real glimpse into her day-to-day. I’m looking forward to it, as it’s a  joy to write Lindsay and this is another Lindsay-centric chapter. I’m getting really excited about writing her novel.

Not sure how much of Chapter 18 I’ll get to work on this week, as this is our critique group weekend and there are three sets of pages to which I must attend. No resentment here, though; the process always energizes me and makes me more excited to return to my  work with new insight. Good stuff, always.

 

Really rediscovering my love of writing. I suppose the “love” has always been there, but at times it’s the equivalent of a marriage: stable, happy, and reliable, but sometimes it’s a great deal of work. That sort of love. I’m talking more about the honeymoon phase, the very romance that led me to name this site Shaggin the Muse. Everyday I look forward to spilling  new ideas and emotions onto the page, really digging in and spending time with the characters. I can only credit the time off for illness a few weeks back, but whatever, it’s paid off. I’ve missed this feeling and hope that it can keep going for awhile. Writing  is awesome when you strip it of the desperation and frustration of the business. Sometimes you just need a reminder of the beauty that’s contained within the process, of the transcendent qualities of art, regardless of whether you reach an audience at all. Hopefully it shines through in the final product.

That’s all I have to say for this week. I’ll be back next week with some more information on Chapter 18 and maybe some more information on that Lindsay novel and my vision for the series.