The End

This has not been a good year for blogging. What's that? You missed me? You didn't notice? You only ended up here because you searched "child eats glue stick" or "Tell Me All Your Thoughts On God Song Meaning?" (Note how I cleverly promote the two most popular search entries leading to my blog. Not sure what I expect to accomplish with this cleverness, since this blog is not about glue sticks or late 90's music.)

But never fear friends, I'm still wasting time. I've spent the last 5 months revising my book, and after countless hours and documents, and even an editing class, I've come to the conclusion that I've come to the conclusion. I'm not exactly sure how a writer is supposed to know when their book is done. But for me, it's done when it's as good as I can make it. And so, for now, I'm done.

That's not to say my book is perfect and there's no room to improve. I'm just saying that at this point in time, I've taken it as far as whatever talent I posess permits. I'm entering the Pitch Wars contest in hopes of getting a mentor, because my own brain has been wrung dry on this book. I need a shot of genius from an outside source. And I need to stop reading my book backward and forward, before I have to pull a Taylor Swift and tell it we are never, ever, ever getting back together again.

So before I burn the bridges with Creepy Boy, I'm wishing it well, I'm sending it out into the world of Queries and Contests and other far distant places. Ours will be a long-distance relationship, and an open relationship too. Creepy Boy, feel free to let other minds twirl around your plot, POV and chapter order. And please don't be hurt if I start writing someone else. I know it's sudden. But he caught my eye the other day. . .no one you know. . .his name's Harm. He's in a rock band. His mom's a psycho. Runs in the family.

Don't worry, Creepy, we'll still keep in touch. I promised you another tweak of your final chapters. I'll come through for you on that the first weekend we get together. It'll be bittersweet and we'll both come away agreeing it's for the best.

First Draft

I just did it. I just finished writing a for-real, all the way to the end, 96,853 words, 36 chapters, first draft of a novel.

I'm beyond excited about this, which is why I'm bragging about it on my blog. I've spent a year on this story, but before that, I spent many many years with many beginnings of stories that I never had the stamina to take all the way to The End.

So tiny little pat on the back for myself, while I'm still feeling it. Oh, heck, great big pat on the back and a rum n coke! I'm sure it won't be long before the doubts come back out to play, but for now, I'm riding the high into revision-land for as long as I can.

The one thing I have going for me is that I love my story. Okay, yeah, I wrote it myself, so I probably should, but at least I know I'm not going to get sick of it.

That's right, my book, the book I wrote myself, is now right up there with all my favorites, some of them favorites for the whole story, like Bridget Jones' Diary, others, favorites for just one or two perfect pages.

I've skimmed my way numerous times to that delicious scene where Percy literally kisses the ground Marguerite walks on. I've taken on "Phantom of the Opera" over and over, for Raoul on the roof with Christine, bitterly trying to accept their "secret engagement," or for that moment when the Phantom speaks his name, or sheds a tear.

I've read "A Tale of Two Cities," cover to cover many times, just for the joy of that moment when Sidney Carton does "a far, far better thing."

I'm looking forward to revising and revisiting all the tender and twisted moments I love and savor in my own book. I just have to make sure I work on all the other parts too.

What books do you love to re-read?

Cover Art, Yay!

I came home from the Tax Job tonight, to find my family had been busy creating covers for my novel in progress. I'm so glad I live with these awesome people. I love them! Look what they did!

 by Robbie age 5

 From my husband, Matt

 by Sarah age 7

by Sarah age 7

Vote for your favorite! I'll use it to grace the cover of my 1st draft!





One of the characters in the book I'm writing decided to write a sonnet. Which means, I have to write a sonnet. I haven't done that since high-school, and out of curiosity, I headed to the Archives*

Eventually, I found my sonnet, in my poetry binder.** My teacher had generously given it an A. I suppose that's because I followed the proper rhyme pattern and pentameter. The fact that it was stupid apparently didn't figure into the equation.

 

Other treasures I found:

• A radio script I wrote for a contest in middle school. (non winning)
• A picture book I wrote for a contest in middle school. (non winning)
• My elementary school diary (the complete week of entries I made)
• Various beginnings of stories about genies, time travel (with stagecoaches), school hi-jinks, ghosts, death, murder, and some lame story that seems to be all about a kid who didn't want to cook dinner for his family. Not sure where I was going with that one.
• A very funny description of an unsanctioned subversive school club, called "The Writers Bloc" whose mission was to use writing to achive chaos. (not real, but it should have been!)
• Some excellent examples of bad writing. "She picked up her suitcase and transported it to the bedroom." Seriously? Transported? And who gives a crap about her suitcase anyway?
• An OUTLINE for my very best story from high-school, the one I'd come up with an awesome ending for, but can no longer remember. Outline was very detailed, and only missing one thing. The ending. I now realise it was also missing a little thing called plot. 

Digging through all this awesomeness kept me entertained late into the night and I'd like to think that as ancient as it may be, all those efforts can still count towards my 10,000 hours to creative breakthrough.


*Two boxes of notebooks, folders and binders that I have transported through 7 changes of address.
**Yes, it is an actual binder. Yes, it is alphabetized. Yes, those are the two most impressive features of the poetry binder. The actual poems pale in comparison.

Readers

I need a few people to start reading a first draft for me. Not proofreaders. Not beta readers. Not critique partners.  I'll be needing those too, in the future. Right now, I just need people who love me enough to waste a little time reading chapter by chapter installments of my book in rough draft format. People who will say stuff like "oooh, interesting, I can't wait for more." People who will nag me saying, "it's Sunday, don't you have another chapter done?"

Sure, I'll take corrections, suggestions or constructive criticism. But I'm also going to try my best to make it reader-worthy, with a minimum of typos and an effort to be at first-draft level, or at least a bit above true "rough" draft.

For any  fellow writers, I will return the favor (in any manner you like, FYI I'm a very good proofreader--to other people's work, not so much for my own). 

Here's the concept of my story, if you're interested.

Kelsey knows it’s rude to stare at Calvin Baker, when everyone else at school glances away politely. She knows it’s wrong and cruel to think of him as Creepy Boy. It’s not Calvin’s fault he was in a disfiguring accident and can barely speak a coherent sentence.



But Kelsey can’t forget her recurring dreams that predicted Calvin’s fate. And she can’t shake the haunting sensation that Calvin has returned from the dead. Soon she’s drawn into a voyeuristic fascination with Calvin and discovers that he has an obsession of his own—Kelsey’s long-time friend and recent ex-boyfriend Dave.


As Kelsey attempts to salvage her relationship with Dave, she finds herself unwillingly sympathetic to Calvin’s own attraction to Dave. Until one day she discovers Calvin’s true dark desires, depicted in the pages of the lurid comics he draws. But by then, Kelsey has already gotten too close to Creepy Boy.