They thundered in on loud, glittering machines (Harley motorcyles), ostentatious in their efforts to be cool and tough, shattering me with their numbers and volume.
It was the muses, awakened, returned, and energetic.
Six thirty AM, I’d just finished reviewing my dreams and wasn’t ready to get out of bed. I’d stayed up late watching “Ozark” on Netflix. A cat (Tucker, black and white, long-furred) was nestled against me, warm and purring. Yeah, no need to get up.
I began going through my manuscript in my head. I’d finished reading it. It was okay. Satisfactory.
Yeah, satisfactory and okay weren’t what I was looking for, damn it.
So the muses began riding around, revving their engines and hurling ideas at me. Do this, write this, what about this?
No, that’d be a much different book and not the one that this book is. Ah, but what about doing this? Hmmm…that makes sense. It’s attractive. Appealing.
Time to write (well, edit) like crazy, one more time.
But first, I really need coffee.
I’ve read through and revised (once again) OMDT – Other Moments, Different Times. That fifth draft looks good. Now I’ve turned it over to an copy-editor for proofing. As that’s progressing, I turned to writing the synopsis.
I usually dislike writing queries and a synopsis. They’re different from fiction writing, and I need to turn on a different skill set for them. It’s work I’d rather not do.
But I’m having fun this time. That’s a surprise and a relief. However, the coffee mug is empty and the butt is bemoaning the hard chair. About four hours have passed. Most of that time has been sitting except for hourly breaks (hello, Fitbit) to walk around. Besides that, my stomach is saying, “Hey, um, hate to be that guy, but food would be welcomed, you know, like lunch?”
So, time once again to stop this crazy writing thing and go off to other matters.
A friend’s question prompted some post-response thinking as I conducted my pre-writing walk.
Before 2014, I wrote six novels. I never edited or revised them, and never sent them anywhere.
Between 2014 and 2016, I wrote four more novels. Since 2016, I epublished them. None did well. In fairness, I barely marketed them. I still remain fond of Returnee.
Since 2016, I’ve written five more novels. I haven’t published any of them. The first four were the Incomplete States quadrilogy that begins with Four On Kyrios. I shopped them to forty agents or more. None showed interest.
I finished April Showers 1921 last month and began shopping it with agents. Sent it to twenty. Three agents are showing interest by requesting more material.
Last week I began writing another novel. The writing is the thing, you see. The new project has me laughing as the muses pitch crazy new twists on the whole thing. It’s the fun stage. It’s hard to keep up but I’m going to try to enjoy it while I’m on it.
Of course, like ocean waves, it’s not all linear, writing a novel. Ups and downs, setbacks and advances, excitement and frustration are ahead. Each will probably be endured multiple times in the months it takes me to write, edit, and revise this piece. That’s part of the process.
Got my coffee. My ass is in the chair and the computer is on. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.