The evening wasn’t the right time to try and get things done: I was pretty much out of it by the time I returned from work, and most of the time my brain was only dimly responding to stimuli. I did listen to the Shrine Auditorium recording of The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway while looking over notes, but the music sort of washed over me and left me calm, rather than bringing me inspiration.
You have nights like that. Sometimes it’s best to lie back and take it as it comes to you, because to force the situation is to invite trouble.
But during the day there was a lot going on in my head. Not just from fixing programs and the like, because that was going on–including a last minute fix that came to me about five minutes before I was to leave the office–but I do have moments of downtime, like . . . when I head off to the bathroom. I always use the handicap/unisex washroom because it’s large, and there only room for one, so I’m alone with my thoughts, and there’s never any need of worry that people are going to freak if they hear me talking through lines in the other stall.
After all, some of the things I’m discussing with myself can be . . . scary.
I managed to work out scenes that I knew needed rewriting in Act One. The first one was suggested, and it made sense: it’s when Annie is getting ready to head off to school and her father is in her room saying goodbye–but there is no mention of a certain boy that the whole family knows about because Darling Daughter has been dreaming about this kid for close to ten years. And no father is going to mention this fact to his daughter? Nope, nope, nope.
Then I was given a quick primer in Bulgarian family names and their gender suffixes by Jeno Marz, a fellow writer who knows a lot more about that sort of stuff than me. I made some notes so when I came home I could look this up as well and make changes where needed, and sure enough: the information had been there, I just didn’t bother checking. Damn. My research creed is straight in the crapper now. But a huge thanks to Jeno, because getting it right is half the battle.
(This also makes me realize that Annie’s middle name is completely wrong, and that she also needed a patronymic, which I added–and which a certain smart-ass school sorceress will use without asking if she could use it. Bad Mistress of All Darkness.)
Most importantly I removed a scene from the novel, because it’s not needed. If you’re going to show and not tell, then when my kids are sitting in a dinner in Russel Square having lunch, a recapping of what they’d done would be far better than just telling people. That’s another rewrite that’s needed.
But what about that new scene you said you were going to add, Cassie? Well . . .
As the Magic 8 Ball says, “Ask again later.” Like tomorrow. See you then.