Crazy day of writing, but then they all seem that way these days.
Blogging usually takes up an hour of my time during the day if I’m looking up a lot of things (also known as research, and some of you know how I feel about research), but when I’m just flying about, saying things, it goes a lot faster. Most of the time I talk about my writings, other times I speak of my dreams, and sometimes I feel like calling wankers out on their BS.
I’m five chapters into doing the edits on my NaNo Novel, and I think I’ll have Part One finished this weekend. It’s a great feeling to go through your work and see what was written over a month ago. Part of the time you’re thinking, “Oh, this is such crap; why did I write this?” but that’s only due to seeing your work with new eyes and understanding that you wrote all this stuff while consumed by some white-hot fever, and now it’s time to make it really come to life.
Because the rest of the time you’re re-reading your novel and realizing that it’s all pretty good, that you didn’t do that bad of a job creating a story. Sure, there’s a lot of work ahead of me–I’m starting on Chapter 6 today, and there’s a total of 24, so I’m only a quarter of the way through editing–but it’ll get done.
I started something else yesterday as well: a new story. This one has bugged me for days, and it came about because of the work I’ve been doing with my very first novel. I spent a few days plugging that sucker into Scrivener, then looked it over and decided what was needed to get it finished. While doing this everything about the characters that I loved when I created them started coming back . . . and this began mixing with something else that’s been kicking around in my head for a bit.
Though I said I wouldn’t work on a story with these characters–mostly because without the first novel explaining so much, their existence and back story might not make much sense–I couldn’t help but at least plot the story out. So I created a new short story in Scrivener and went to work.
In about an hour I had the story. It wasn’t all that difficult because I’ve been thinking about this story for more than a few days, so when you can’t get it out of your head get it down on paper, or some electronic media. Once the scenes were finished I sat there looking at it, thinking, “Yeah, I should do this . . . I should . . . it wants me to tell this story.” I know that sounds strange, but Harlan Ellison has stated on many an occasion that his stories wrote themselves, so why can’t mine speak to me?
So last night, after 10 PM my time, I began Echoes, which is what I’ve named the story. Only 547 words so far, but most of that was due to writing several hundred words describing the late night scene outside the main female character’s window, and damn, has it been a long time since I’ve seen that view. Oh, yeah, I know what it looks like–I’ve known for 20 years–but it’s been a long time since I’ve had to tell anyone what I looks like.
So, we’re going to see where that goes. Maybe it’ll go alongside this next piece . . ..
I can say this now: I sold a story. Signed the contract last week and, this morning, sent along information to the publisher so they can do a cover. I’ve told a few people about it, and it’s been great happiness all around.
The story is a bit of erotica–yes, I have written that. This was actually a piece I wrote to prove to myself I could write “normal” erotica, because most of my work in the genre was more along the lines of fetish fantasy. And it was fun writing, because I could allow my imagination to roam in a direction it doesn’t go too often.
And there’s a bit of additional goodness here: I was told they would like to see more.
Since I would like to show more, I’ve been thinking about what I could submit. Oh, sure, I have this long erotic fantasy that might just fit the bill (and, no: you don’t get to hear it), but this morning when I woke up and started looking for the lunar eclipse–and damn it, I wasn’t there–it hit me: why not finish a story I started a long time ago, something I blogged about back on 1 May, 2011.
That story would be Lorelei’s Lessons.
I’d started that at the start of May, and had the greatest intentions of finishing it up and sending it off. However, one thing or another came along and I just couldn’t bring myself to write that story. (If you’re wondering what that “thing” was, it was depression.)
Sure, I had to look for it, but there it is, 1,800 words down and maybe another 8,000 to go? Probably longer, because I saw the story as being somewhat more than a simple romp in the hay. Even when I’m doing kinky sex, I like to have a story; otherwise it’s porn, and porn is boring, I don’t do that. At least I don’t set out to bore someone . . ..
So, editing–check. Old work in progress–check. New work in progress–check. Erotic story waiting to be set up in Scrivener–check.
I’ve got my work ready to go.
Just need to put in the seat time.