This week, I noted one happy thing: My hair has finally grown long enough to twist into a knot and skewer with a pencil. No more elastics, hair pins, or miserable claw-things pulling at my hair roots. My mane can be tamed.
Maybe one day I’ll upgrade my HBs for some pretty chopsticks.
Meanwhile, have I mentioned that I’ve reached the mid-point of Book 2? Well, I have. My w.i.p. is a trifle on the wobbly side–okay, okay–actually she’s listing like a churchlady who’s just discovered the thrill of sweet sherry. I’ve spent the better part of two weeks adding things in, hoping to give her the right ballast. You know the type of stuff I’m talking about–seeding stuff that will show up later, fine-tuning motivations, getting rid of some shoddy prose.
Then I made yet another problem list. I re-inspected every scene, and wrote down the stuff that (cue the violins sawing away) STILL must be changed.
A staggering list it is.
Puzzling. I thought I’d figured out how to avoid all this backward-tweaking stuff. But no. It doesn’t seem to matter how much outlining I do beforehand, I remain a pantser. Perhaps, like being brown-eyed, and prone to turning rolly-polly, that’s pre-determined.
Dang. I really yearned to be one of the cool, assessing writers, who come up with a 40 page, 10 book outline, and then went off and wrote it. Straight through, never, ever veering off course. Life would be so much tidier, no?
Sure beats me.
Since I have no wisdom for you today, I’ll offer this instead. One of my friends has a new book out. Kristen Painter’s new series is getting some really, really gosh-damn! reviews. The first book, BLOOD RIGHTS, came out this week. I’ve read an excerpt of it, and I found the writing and story compelling.
I’ve been a veritable workaholic this week, so I’m going to reward myself. Tonight, I’ll drive to Chapters to buy her book and another one that I’ve long wanted to read,(but haven’t had the time or opportunity to get to) The SWEET SCENT OF BLOOD (A Spellcrackers Novel) , written by Suzanne McLeod.
And then I’m going to run a bath. A long full hot one. I’m going to sink into the water, and then reach for one of those Lush bath bombs. And as the bomb begins to fizzle between my knees, I’m going to thumb open the cover page, and delve into the secrets of The House of Comarre.
Ah, that will hit the spot.