On to the Next Project. Already? Already.

[dr_pretentious]

Did a short pass of fixes to the ms, on the basis of Dan's feedback. Memo To Myself: When putting a crucial piece of information into the mouth of a character who speaks English badly, make sure the information is only as inscrutable as you intend it to be. Very glad I fixed that. Hope the repair works.

The draft's ready to go out--has gone out, to the folks who asked for it to be emailed and whose addresses I had. Snailmail will have to wait until Monday.

I still like it. Even in moments when it seems to me to be unpardonably derivative, and I seem to myself to be a hack of the worst sort, it looks like reasonably readable derivative hackwork. And I'm not in those bleak moments all the time.

For about ten minutes on Friday, I had this notion of taking a day off. Well, not completely off, because if I don't at least write a sentence or mark up a page of hard copy or make some kind of token effort, I become Crazed and Unpleasant. But a day mostly off. I was waiting for Dan to finish reading the draft, because I wanted at least one trusted reader to have a chance to tell me what didn't work, before I sent the story off to some people who haven't read my fiction before.

My brain did not want a day off. It demanded index cards.

Oh, come on, I told my brain. We've got errands to run, students to teach, a bicycle to ride, and besides, we finished something short, for once. Brevity merits celebration.

INDEX CARDS, said my brain.

Okay, okay, index cards.

GHOST STORY NOTES, it added.

But that's going to be another novella. There's no way that story is going to play out right in under 25K. Can't we try something shorter? Easier to sell?

NOW. My brain was not happy with me.

So I ran off fresh hard copy of the notes and fragments for one of the stories I started poking at back in October but didn't get far with. The first four pages are continuous narrative, and I'm actually pretty happy with them, considering that I barely remembered having written them. Friday got me a very incomplete, not-yet-organized, index-carded look at the plot. Some of the characters are beginning to talk to me, but the ghost of the cigar-shop owner thinks I have an insufficient appreciation for Bruce Springsteen, and isn't interested in telling me any more of his story until I acknowledge the supremacy of the Boss.

matociquala's right. Writers is nutz.

Or perhaps it's just incipient brain fever. I actually am feeling under the weather.

I don't know if it's that I pushed myself too hard, biking on the towpath today, or if I'm starting to come down with the bug that's been going around.

Hey, those of you who've had the bug--what were the early signs?

Comments

[jr0124.livejournal.com]

Indications of the early signs of this plague: general feeling crappy, a slight headache around the sinus area, and then a niggling sore throat for a little while followed by full-bore congestion and head cold badness. It kept me out of work this past week. I tried to go in on Thursday only to be sent home by my supervisor's supervisor. On top of that, I was forced to cancel my weekend plans!

Needless to say, it hit me hard.

[dr-pretentious.livejournal.com]

And you had the very coolest weekend plans! That's really too bad.

Happy birthday anyway.

[calene.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I keep swearing that "this time" I'll take a little brain vacation between projects. I rarely last more than two days, and that's with a huge amount of willpower expended.

Good luck with the new project!

Hope you feel better soon.

[jasminewind.livejournal.com]

I think if my brain talked to me the way yours does, I'd become seriously unhinged. Is it possible to be so much of a control freak that you refuse to listen to even yourself?

I am reading the novella, so far only 1 page into it but thanks for sending it out!

Finally, I don't know what the NJ bug is doing but the big nasty that I had started with a sharp pain in my ribcage and a little annoying cough that grew into a deep ugly cough. If it gets you, remember, coughing means sick, sick means rest and continued sick means antibiotics!

But I hope you dodge it.

[dr-pretentious.livejournal.com]

A multivocal brain seems to be pretty useful for writing poetry and fiction.

Yep, that's my bug. First sign: I was biking on the towpath at six measly miles an hour, in first gear, and felt short of breath as if I were going absolutely flat out. Just three days earlier, I'd been in much, much better shape. The shortness of breath kind of worried me. And since then, blammo, sore throat and headaches.

Yes, sick means rest. And tea. And soup. Sigh.

[reynaud.livejournal.com]

You know, I've been saying that talking to yourself is not bad (hell, sometimes it's the only way to insure an intelligent conversation), but that when you argue with yourself ... and lose ... you're in trouble.

::looks over post again::

Hmmmm.


Good luck on not getting ill. I'll read the story when I print it out. I hate reading lots of stuff on computers.

[writersweekend.livejournal.com]

The novella rocks. I was completely drawn in and devastated when I discovered I'd only printed out 64 pages - and it was the middle of the night, so then next day I finished it.

Ahhhh. What a satisfying story. I admit I was worrying on your behalf about whether you'd do what you did or not (thinking it necessary and not wanting to be too much of a mother hen).

[dr-pretentious.livejournal.com]

Dan told me you'd called, all fretful after reading the first third that I'd got my scale wrong. But whatever else needs fixing in this piece, I think it really is about as long as it needs to be.

You liked it enough to worry, so I figured that was a good sign, right there. Glad you enjoyed it!

Feedback of all kinds is welcome.

[writersweekend.livejournal.com]

It's perfect - I just wanted to know if it was a longer book or a story. The detail was just right. And, it could be turned into the first three chapters of a longer book, quite nicely, I think. It has a lot of appeal to a lot of different kinds of readers.