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Archive for June, 2011

Progress Report, in which I am nothing if not consistent

Another 8800 words on the From Earth I Have Arisen rewrite, and another 1000 words cut.  Here’s your friend and mine, Magic Meter, to make it all pretty:

Productivity, alert readers will note, is down from last week.  I’m reasonably sure this is due to my approaching the part of the rewrite I’m dreading–the end, which involves adding an entirely new chapter.  And I’m still not sure what happens in it.

Yeah, I know it’s ridiculous.  But at this point, haven’t you pretty much come to expect that from me?  I should think you’d admire my consistency.

This might actually be a decent story, but I’m sure gonna be glad when I’m done with it.

Anyway, a snippet, for your delectation:

Robin let her hand fall away from her face, swallowed hard. She looked to the brightening east. "You’re losing the night."

"I don’t want the night. This isn’t a reconnaissance flight. I want them to see me. I’d hoped to launch at dawn. I thought I’d have to do it myself, which would take much longer. But with you three here to help–"

"Wait a minute," Robin said. "You want to be seen?"

"I’m counting on it, actually. That’s the only way this will work."

"With Serena gearing up Glenwood for war–and you want them to see you coming? Wayne, that’s suicide."

The thought had crossed his mind.

No updates for Write Club.


Progress Report, in which I discuss occupational hazards

Some 11K worth of rewrite on From Earth I Have Arisen, which, when combined with the cutting of another 900 words, brings Magic Meter here:

Family obligations (the good kind) hindered progress, but again the trend is in the right direction, so I suppose I won’t complain too much.  I was particularly pleased that I managed to trim another 900 words, as I know that I will be adding an entire chapter to the end of this thing.

Some professional setbacks had me quite down in the mouth last week.  It rather amazes, the speed with which we writers go from ecstatic to despondent.  Any occupation with this many ups, downs, and hairpin turns should come with a safety harness.  Seriously.  If OSHA ever gets wind of this, there could be sanctions.

Anyway, I’m pulling myself out of the self-pity pit and soldiering on.  As one does.

It occurs to me that I’ve been remiss in providing snippets.  So here you go:

He saw no other living soul along the way. The grassy plains, mostly brown with lateness of the season, spread from horizon to horizon in every direction. Occasional flocks of migrating birds flew overhead, including a honking V of geese, but other than that, the land was silent and empty. That was nothing new, of course; the world had gotten awfully quiet since the Red Death. Wayne usually enjoyed the peace. He considered it one of the few good things that had come of the plague. America had been such a dadgum noisy, frenetic place in the old days. For whatever reason, though, as he made his way down County Road H40, the stillness struck him as somehow eerie, as if the countryside were a giant, open-air tomb.

Two updates for Write Club, both of them novel queries:  Tier one rejects from an agent and from Angry Robot.  Response times, nine and 97 days, respectively.

And I’m out.

Progress Report, in which I demonstrate the dollar value of genre fiction

Notched another 7500 words’ worth of rewrite on From Earth I Have Arisen, bringing Magic Meter to here:

A better week than the previous one, but still nowhere near as productive as I would like.  At least the trend is in the right direction.

That big cut I mentioned last week ended up being bigger than I thought–nearly 3K words.  And the fact that such a large excision required very little stitching afterward tells me that I never needed that scene. 

The amusing part?  Even when I first drafted the scene, I didn’t know what its purpose was.  I plunged ahead with it, anyway, confident that the muse would fill me in sooner or later.  Turns out that its purpose seems to be an object lesson in what not to do.  Or something like that.

I spent much of the previous weekend at a new local con, Contagion.  It was much more media focused than most cons I usually attend, and there was no party scene to speak of(!).  Even so, I got some networking done, and even managed to sell a few books–enough to cover the price of parking, with a clear $5.00 left over.  (Thanks, Cindy!)

Hey, don’t mock.  Have you seen the pay rates for genre fiction?  Five bucks is five bucks.

No updates for Write Club.

I’m out.