Endings, Beginnings, and Everything In Between

I have the full, completed manuscript sitting next to me in it's three-ring binder, the plainly printed title sheet staring at me from the front cover. It's done. Added a preface and epilogue, decided on a title, and she's ready to go to an agent. It's time to let this one rest, and consider other stories. It's not that big of a move, though-I've had the idea for the sequel to the first book floating around in my head for a few months now, I just haven't let it bob to the surface. It might have made too many waves and crashed my muse's boat! I'm cautiously excited, but I'll save the true emotion for the acceptance letter. I know I'll have to ride out some rejections, that's just the name of the game. And I intend to play it a full court press!! So to bed, to sleep, perchance to dream of new characters to add to the new storyline....

Popcicles and Phun

What happened to the lazy days of summer?? I find myself at the end of the day reflecting on the incredible amount of things I managed to stuff into it. Like the soliloquy at the end of Stone Sour's album, I have a 'summer spent and a winter earned'. Winter is when I'll get the cabin fever, and start all kind of projects, just to keep me sane. Ish. Sane-ish.
I did 6 more chapters yesterday, edited and mostly to my liking. Cleaned up some dialogue, and simplified a radio frequency situation. Throat mikes are great, but they don't have the range to reach from Maine to Virginia. I was trying to make them do it on paper, but the real world tech just wouldn't support it. Came up with an alternative that both simplified the scenes, and made for less unnecessary dialog. I know, boooooring. It's so much more interesting when you get to look at the story. Hopefully, everyone in the known world will get a chance to sometime in the not-too-distant future!
Company is coming from out of town, so I must get back to swabbing the deck and chipping off barnacles. There's a few more things I'd like to rant about, but no time for it today. I promise to be incendiary in the next few days, goddess willing.....

Ripping Holes, Mending Tears

Restraining my urge to hit the 'select all' function then 'delete', I've spent the last few days doing some heavy editing on the first draft of the book, about 79 paperback size pages, ten chapters so far. I found some plot holes that I patched up, and made some room in other places for action that will happen later in the book. It's both harder and more gratifying than I imagined it to be. I've found that note taking is somewhat helpful, but I have to remember them for them to be of any use at all!
Meanwhile, my short term memory is stuffed full of 'gotta remembers'- he's wearing (fill in manly duds) while out in the (driveway? outhouse? where was he again?). No wonder most fiction writers are notoriously bad for carrying on a conversation-we're trying to maintain a presence in both the here and now, and in the then and where. I seem to say 'Huh?' alot nowadays....

Catching the Worm

I'm up and moving earlier than I have been for most of the summer, mostly because I feel a bit unhinged (more so than usual) if I sleep in past 7am. Early bird catches the worm and all, early to bed, early to rise; makes a mamma keep one step ahead of the curve. Sleeping in has never been an option for most of my adult life, and I'm OCD enough that now it makes me feel like I've gone and screwed the pooch for the day if I do. Missed opportunities! Slack work ethic! What's next, a complete descent into decadence? Will I lose whatever drive I have and become-*gasp*-a slacker??
Naw.
So for the sake of my whirling brain, I get up a bit earlier, quiet the voices in my head (they like coffee, are nicely distracted by it), and make a to-do list for the day. Pointedly ignoring the fact that I won't get to most of the list, of course. No matter how thorough it seems to be, I end up doing three times the work that was on it. Oh well, at least I can give myself the illusion that I'm organized. And that's what life is all about, eh? Living within your self-made illusions. Now if only I could get everyone else to live in mine, I could get a whole heck of a lot done around here!

I claim this ending of my book in the name of blood, sweat, and tears!

Epilogue still to write, but that will come after the first editing session, to be sure I wrap things up with some measure of coherency. The thing that surprised me the most is how difficult it was to actually finish the last scene. Of course, my characters were in a pretty hard place, personally. So they were a bit reluctant to tell any sort of tale. I dragged it out of them, without much kicking or screaming on their part. Me, on the other hand, I was bouncing in my seat, backspacing, staring at the cursor, and generally being a spaz. Muscled through it, and came away happily stunned at the ending. My heroine is such an unpredictable girl. She keeps me busy, and I hope she will continue to for a long time.

Conflict Resolution

Initial writes on the final scene are done, done, done. My muse really took me by the back of the neck and pushed my face into this one-I was so tense and into the plot that I got a charlie horse in my back as I wrote. Messy, bloody, and full of surprises; it brought to light some character traits that had been lurking in the background the whole time for my heroine, surprising herself about herself. Surprising me, too. I know my characters better than anyone, especially right now. But they still manage to sneak in an unplanned revelation every now and again, or do things that are definitely not in my notes. I try not to dissect the process too much, look too closely at the organic growth of the characters, but sometimes I wonder where 'surprises' in writing come from. Are they my subconscious rearing up and making me write things it's already planned? Is there a part of my brain writing the book right now that I can't access until I sit down to type? Or are the voices in my head finally getting around to having their own hobby? Whatever it is, if it keeps me laughing out loud, or covering my open mouth in shock and awe, it goes in and stays in. Even if it means a carefully planned scene will be thrown in the air like a deck of cards, and I have to play '52 pickup'.

Fictional Heartbreak

Today I am going to try my best to hurt someone I care for very much. Truly, it's going to hurt me more than it does them.
Now before you call 911 and have the constabulary at my doorstep, let me assure you that however real they may be to me, it's going to be entirely on paper.
But in the best interest of the plot, someone has to go down in a fairly dramatic fashion for my heroine to have the impetus to rush in and save the day. I had no idea when I began this book that I could become so attached to someone entirely in my head that it made me stutter-step in my writing. Actually, to be completely honest, the 'book' didn't start out as such-I sat down to write a short story to get the creative juices flowing so that i could start on a book later. It got so out of control, word-count wise, in the first few chapters that I threw up my metaphorical hands and gave myself over to it and rolled with it. Now I find myself thinking of my characters at all hours of the day and night, having revelations about them, learning things about their motivations, in essence falling in love with them, no matter how flawed they might be. So when i realized that one of them had to be hurt, it haunted me to the point of obsession. I kept trying to re-do the plot, adjusting the dynamic so that I could weasel out of it, but to drive home what I wanted, I couldn't find my way out of it. Thankfully, I don't have to do away with them completely. If I did, I would have to prepare a memorial service, be in mourning, wear black (oh wait, I already wear black most of the time), and mope around for days. But no, I just have to hurt them badly. Trust me though, someone's going to pay. That's the up side that will have me sitting down to write today. Plot driven pain is lamentable, but I can sure as heck make my bad guy pay in spades for it.