Rocket Flares In A Pre-Dawn Sky

The clocks moved forward here in Britain last night…

After the “short” night, I’m still awake early. I am usually an early riser – particularly now. My brain seems on “full speed” as I awaken and for some time afterwards.

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Chasing Our Imperfections

When you are proofing, eventually it reaches a point where you are fiddling with a sentence, a word, even a few letters. You are now zeroing in on minutiae. That is one of the toughest places to be in writing: you are essentially finished, but you keep finding “bits” that you tweak and alter.

Tweaking like that, though, sometimes reveals what you’ve missed, too. And among 100,000 words, you WILL miss things.

For instance, yesterday I found an egregious spelling mistake – that had been repeated half a dozen times throughout the text because I must’ve done it the once and “autocorrected” it again and again. (Ever feel like an idiot?) I also found somehow I’d gotten an entire paragraph into the wrong chapter – it must have been a cut and paste edit that somehow got dropped in again where it wasn’t meant to be at all. I could have bashed my head into the wall when I saw both of those beauts.

Free Stock Photo: Close-up of an enter button.
Free Stock Photo: Close-up of an enter button.

Also, as I re-read one chapter yesterday I came upon one scene I’ve never much liked. And if you don’t like it, why should anyone else? So I did a short revision, and I think it’s an improvement. I went for understatement, which is – for me, anyway – usually a far better approach.

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The Initial Unveiling

Well, the full sequel is now “out there”…. being looked at for the first time by others besides myself. This may be even more of a “story shocker” for them than the first book. It is also making the “proof read” rounds in a far more complete form than did the series opener.

Bracing myself for impact: Frontiers: Atlantic Lives, 1995-1996, is the now full, official title.

Almost a year’s worth of struggle. A personal hell at times. To say that I’m feeling “nervous” – even a bit sick to my stomach – is an understatement.

Free Stock Photo: A tree in fog at night.
Free Stock Photo: A tree in fog at night.

Having broadband finally installed meant I had, uh, no more excuses for avoiding sending off large files. It was past time, and I well knew that. You can write yourself silly, producing hundreds of thousands of words, but if no one ever reads what you’ve produced, if it never touches someone else, or gets them thinking, there’s no point really.

Anyway, time now to pursue something of the mundane, but decidedly necessary: to put a second bed back together. πŸ˜‰

Have a good Tuesday, wherever you are reading this. πŸ™‚

I Hate Repeating Myself

There was a time I inhabited a realm in which I had imagined I wanted to write a MASSIVE novel. Fortunately I came to my senses quickly, cut Passports to a sensible length, and saved lots for a sequel or two, or three. After all, I mean, really, who’s got time to read and digest the likes of this in one go?:

Herman Wouk’s “The Winds of War” – all 1,110 pages of it! [Photo by me, 2014.]

Where am I, you ask? Uh, I’m on page 310, and I think I’m doing fairly well. If I’m lucky, I’ll be finished by 2016. πŸ™‚

My first sequel was never envisioned by me as a 100 percent, stand alone novel. However, as I crafted it, I drifted into writing it as possibly being read as one; yet it’s still part of a series. Also I dislike it when a given book in a series rehashes too much that had already been covered in earlier volumes, so I’ve done my best with the coming second novel to avoid perhaps irritating readers of the first book with too much repetition. (My wife tells me the “Tom Cruise” “Jack Reacher” novels – which she loves, but I’ve never read – can be somewhat repetitive.)

The danger in that approach is new readers may find themselves “lost,” but I also view this tale as lives in progress, so being partly “confused” is, of course, what life is all about. So parachuting in for the second book without reading the first is certainly possible, but if one can start at “the beginning,” why not do so? Having read Passports will certainly assist a reader in starting the sequel already familiar with who the heck all of these people are – including, for instance, our inimitable crime novelist, Uncle Bill:

image

I have been thinking I could also eventually combine the two novels into one grand, 800 page-ish tome. Again back to the notion of the “big book.” However, for now, they will remain separate. I’ll leave any decisions as to how they are to be handled beyond my lifetime to my niece and nephews: my trusted literary heirs. πŸ˜‰

In my current re-read of the sequel’s draft, I keep finding silly errors and typos that I should have found during the previous re-read. [Cue seriously annoyed expression.] Moreover, organizing our move from London to here in Trowbridge – or “Trow-vegas” as our Sky TV installer joked to me – has nearly stopped my daily production in its tracks for the last week.

I’d wanted my proofreaders to have it by last weekend, but I didn’t even come close to making that self-imposed deadline. Interestingly, aside from the “sneak peeks” on here, no one has seen the entire sequel as a full novel so far…. except myself. The first book was “shown around” initially at a far earlier stage.

Crunch time fast approacheth….

First, back to sorting out “the office” post-move. Currently, I use that word “office” only, uh, very loosely.

Have a good Friday, wherever you are reading this….

Classical Stuff

This is one of the “media things” I love about Britain. Just before 8 AM, I’m listening to it right now. It’s the Classic FM music station:

Screen capture of the Classic FM web site.
Screen capture of the Classic FM web site.

Yes, NPR in the U.S. does classical music, of course. There’s a local outlet (WMHT) we like and often listen to in upstate NY. But often it’s similar to Radio 3 – which I like too, but at times is just a bit too “high brow.”

Screen capture of the BBC Radio 3 web site.
Screen capture of the BBC Radio 3 web site.

In contrast, Classic FM has more of a lighthearted feel. (It’s also commercial, unlike the BBC.) One minute a presenter plays Mozart, the next the theme from the Magnificent Seven, and then J.S. Bach, and then the Imperial March from Star Wars, and so on. It’s great stuff.

It’s pleasant music to have on while doing the authoring thing. And it makes for a necessary change sometimes. After all, we all get tired of listening to our old Corynne Charby CDs eventually. πŸ˜‰

_____

P.S. Moving day is almost upon us. (It starts later today, and really happens on Monday.) Lots to organize, and won’t get much of anything else done for a few days. I may be a bit quiet on here until Tuesday.

Have a good Friday, wherever you are in the world. πŸ™‚

De-stressing On A Sunday

Friday and yesterday, I made some last minute additions and changes, some of which I found pretty emotional. (I’ve been here before: thanks again for “listening.”) Also, I’m at almost 90,000 words. I need a short break.

Classic FM is playing in the background. I’ve decided I’ll take a day off. Just 24 hours. No net today either.

Obviously that means no witty Sunday post. Nothing novelistically-related will appear here either. Today is for my personal indulgence: it’s going to be a “me” day:

Free Stock Photo: A man and woman practicing yoga in a fitness center
Free Stock Photo: A man and woman practicing yoga in a fitness center

Uh, wait a second! Hold it! Arrgh!

I must indeed be worn down a bit and need to recharge. I’m getting punchy. I just posted…. that they’ll be no post today! πŸ˜‰

Have a good Sunday!

Thinking To Ourselves

I haven’t shared a “sneak peek” into the in-progress sequel in a while. So, I thought, why not? As with previous “peeks,” this one may make the final novel after a cleaning up.

[***** Warning: STOP here if you have not read Passports, think you might, and care about “spoilers.” There is a pretty large “spoiler” below in the next paragraph, as well as several in the “sneak peek.” *****]

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It’s Not A 40 Hour Week

The more book you write, the more you need to remember, and the more you have to keep together. Working through the first sequel, I’m juggling several families, as well as multiple locations in three countries: the U.S. and France again of course, and this time Britain too. Subplots blend together, or they may not. I have to keep personal histories straight. I need to keep the timeframe in mind.

Because I’m writing a “real world.” I suspect penning fantasy is easier in at least this respect: you may always make up something magical to move a story along. But, as I like to joke, I have no vampires, so the story must not only be compelling and break new ground, but it must fit into its historical locale (the mid-1990s) and ultimately read “believably.”

Gee, what could be easier? But before I wrote any of it, I had already outlined broadly what would happen all the way to the end. I had summarized for myself in a Word document where I wanted the story to go and how it would get there. It was not unlike a builder framing a house.

* * *

After that framing, I began constructing the interior – which is where I am now. I’ve got about 75,000 words. Some will definitely be changed, and some seem likely to stay as is; but I’m not nearly finished yet.

I regularly re-upload the manuscript-in-progress in .pdf to an “e-reader.” Last night, I had been re-reading a section I’d written, oh, at least two months ago. I realized I had actually forgotten lots of the story details in that part of the book.

Re-reading in a detached manner after an extended interval has its creative benefits. I found myself doing what I always do, thinking: “Oh, that’s good! I wrote that?” as well as, “Geez, that’s a bit amateurish. You aren’t 14 years old. That’s getting the chop!” I also had some pangs of concern: “Hmm, am I going overboard with that sex scene? Remember women friends will again be reading this!” πŸ˜‰

How my real life novelist uncle would laugh at me. In Passports, I’d slotted in a fictionalized tribute to him that stemmed from an actual conversation I once had:

β€œYou should write something,” she prodded him. β€œYour uncle could help you.”

Distinctly uneasy with that recommendation, James discounted it. β€œWhat he writes isn’t what I like to read. I couldn’t write what he does. I remember my grandmother once telling him off about the sex. β€˜Where did you learn stuff like that?’ she yelled.”

β€œHmm, yes, I agree with her from what I have read,” Isabelle smirked. β€œI think your uncle has learned many things a mother would not want to believe her son knows. It does not matter how old he becomes!”

It is sneaky dropping bits like that in, I know. But, hey, Ernest Hemingway would! πŸ˜‰

* * *

So I smiled to myself when I noticed Author Alliance tossed this out the other day for the consideration of “Twitterdom”:

image

Seriously? I was struck immediately with that being – for me, anyhow – impossible to answer. It was – also for me, at any rate – borderline silly. I tweeted back, “How long is a piece of string?”

Writing is not just the mechanics of pre-organizing the book, and then the typing, and the occasional extra research, and the editing. For me, writing these novels is all-consuming. They occupy and fill my mind.

They have become LIFE – which they should be if they are to be “alive” for future readers. Even when I’m not physically sitting in a front of a PC writing, I may well be thinking about what I will be writing, could be writing, or will change. How do I possibly note all that on a timesheet? πŸ˜‰

Oh, and Happy Bastille Day!