Tuesday, December 29, 2015


Last week's work went well, especially considering a mysterious Christmas Eve illness. I didn't realize what was going on, and I suppose it may have just been food poisoning. I'll probably never know now. Regardless, I edited to chapter 18, and am feeling very good about this home stretch. I now have a better understanding of what was missing in an epilogue yet to be written, and having scanned most of it within a short span, I am more familiar with this new retelling, this rewrite. Earlier in the process I was worried I had written the same story. I have banished that fear.

I had a good conversation with a writer colleague, and her questions put me in a great position to see what my story might look like to different eyes. She is preparing a piece for submission herself, and I think the process was as beneficial for her as it was for me. We're supposed to be getting together for a more in depth chat this week. If I had my druthers, I would be able to finish everything before that meeting, not because she's read it, but because I'd be able to have a discussion about this writing because I'd be carrying all of it with me.

I worked on Christmas Eve. Stumbling to bed that evening, delirious from mental fatigue, I thought to myself that I would be giving myself the best present: belief. If I believe in what I'm doing, I told myself, then I will put in the work required as if I have no choice but to succeed. I achieved a strange kind of head space where a lot of different things made sense in their insanity. "Of course I give myself hard work as a present. That means that the results are valuable, that what I'm doing is worthwhile, more than a lot of other distractions that I could be succumbing to." Of course, I was also sick, so maybe we'll just chalk that up to fever dreaming.

I'm ahead of schedule, with all next week penciled in for work, also, though I doubt I'll need it at this point. If I can finish the rewrite, with this new section I have in mind to add, edit it, and fix the formatting, I might actually get a chance next week to relax before I go back to work, because I will finally have that new novel, that new story, to submit to new publishers. It's been a while since I had something complete, and unconnected to previous writings. Sometimes it feels like sweeping water in the bottom of a well. It isn't going anywhere, but if I focus, I can make sure a unit by unit section is perfectly dry, dry enough to maybe get at whatever is at the bottom of a pit of wishes.

Saturday, December 19, 2015

The first act

The break has started, and so has the work I planned to do during. A friend of mine paid me the compliment that he was really impressed with my ability to look at how much time I have, and stick to a script of how to spend it, in regards to completing my creative projects. Naturally, after that conversation on Tuesday, I squandered that afternoon, Wednesday, and even Thursday. To reach the first week's mark, I had to work Saturday morning. But, it did get done.

I am learning a great deal, and at least for the first third of the novel, I am happy with the rewrite. Just about everything that I had in mind to fix has been taken care of with the third drafting. The world holds up a lot better, feels a lot more distinctive. I have mental images of it now, how it feels and smells and sounds. Connecting with the festivities of this weekend, in some respects, it's a lot like Endor. But I also know in what ways it is not like Endor at all, and for that I am very satisfied.

Something else I got into at the tail end of work some weeks ago, was writing a comic script. My novella, Silver Age, is about 50s era super heroes, and in my mind it was always a graphic novel. In my extremely sluggish networking, I have come across someone who has pushed farther into comic book creation, and when she read some bits of Silver Age, she disagreed with my assessment. So, trusting her knowledge, I have decided to look into having art commissioned for Silver Age, but not going farther than that in regards to making it into something that it currently is not.

And that void is how my newest idea came about. I said comic script because that is what I am writing, deliberately. At least, that's what I think I'm writing. This could of course be very similar to that debacle of a screen play I attempted, or worse, the stage play I devised. At the very least, the screen play was finished, it just wouldn't have resulted in a very good movie. The stage play didn't even get past the first page.

But to move away from the many failures I've enjoyed, this script so far is pretty entertaining. I am not approaching it as so serious a thing. I have the sci-fi rewrite after all. I am imagining it as a 12 issue series, relatively small in scale, though substantial in scope. I had the idea after reading some things, and watching some things, and thinking about the less developed, backdrop ideas present therein, and it was a great activity to use up the useless pockets of time that exist at the tale end of semesters in academia.

My apartment is slowly filling with stapled groups of paper bearing typed print and arrows and circles scratched in angrier font. I don't know what to do about that, and I'm not sure I'd want to even if I did.