Untangling Tales

“Don’t say ‘Good-bye’.”?

How in the world could that be reassuring?

I’ve seen this in movies and books.  Just tonight I heard it in a song.

I always say good-bye even in small non-threatening events; why would anyone find ignoring a departure comforting?

Just don’t get it.

In several places I’ve seen the declaration that it takes 1,000,000 words to be a really good writer.

Leaving aside the arbitrariness of the number and the implied assumption that quantity leads to quality (since I will admit the two are related), I checked out my own record against this.

And I’m barely half-way there.

Okay, technically I did scrape together over a half-mil, but that was with *everything* over 300-words I’ve got on this computer: including old school papers and my 3 months of daily foster-care notes.

Half of that is my estimate of word-count from my blogging the last three years, and maybe a quarter could be attributed to my novels.

There’s a reality check for me.

Every now and then I think I write a lot, and this new measuring stick is like a reminder of the Biblical admonition Don’t think you are better than you really are. Be honest in your evaluation of yourselves.

Too often we evaluate ourselves (in every arena) in relation to what others are doing, when the only healthy ways to evaluate are against what we were and against what we’re called to be.

Those should be enough to cheer, shame, and challenge us without adding other people to the equation.

I put it up on the Teen Lit Review site.

Let’s just say I’m glad I bought it used.

I wasn’t massively disturbed by it this time (as I was as child), but overall it seemed to me a very experimental book, and not one that was very useful to me.

Yes, I’m that mercenary now. If a story doesn’t sweep me off my feet or model amazing *something* I’m on to the next pretty quick.  More thoughts on the book are on my 2009 books page if you’re curious about that sort of thing.

That’s all I’m gonna say.  I really hope they go for a 3rd season.

I am in an exhausted daze today.

Not the lack-of-sleep kind, either.  I am simply drained.

It’s been so long since this happened that I was digging for what I used to explain it in the past.

There is a sine wave theory that I used to subscribe to, that any amount of high-energy or “upper” experience would then be followed by a crash of equal extremity.  Once I recognized the pattern I learned to expect it.  And while I never liked the crash I at least wasn’t caught by surprise.

Having this way of thinking firmly embedded led to some surprises as I got older.

For example, I never crashed after my fun times with Jay.  I never consciously came off the high of “the honeymoon phase” after we were married.  And while I get the “I want to get back to my book” and “I want to work on my project” urges, I’ve never had the I need my space moments I’ve read about.

Since being married I’d had so few “dropping” moments that I was near congratulating myself about how “level” I’d become.  Part of me wondered if I should be disappointed I was missing out on some wild “highs” but I was quite happy/content, and figured any more was worth missing if I continued to skip the lows.

Now, from my older-and-wiser perspective (and the little I’ve learned about introverts), with the experience of the last 24-hours fresh in my mind, I think I got it wrong with the sine-curve model.

The perceived high was real– generally supplied from a great deal of mental stimulation and rapid-fire conversation with a group of people.  The following crash, corresponding with what I’m feeling today, was not a whiplash or punishment for having fun, it is simply my inwardly-wired system trying to rebuild after a higher-than usual drain.

My interactions tend to be with one individual or thinking “in well-worn grooves of thought.” Rapid-fire conversation with a number of people, or very long conversations over many topics are exciting to me.  They sort of prove my brain to myself, and I enjoy that; but it’s distressingly similar to over-working your body in Ultimate Frisbee.

~

You don’t just quit because you’re tired or sore– you get the adrenaline (or mental) rush to get through it competently, even well, but you’re gonna feel it the next day.  And I am.

~ ~ ~

I used to think I was very different from Joule– her high-energy, outgoing, never-quit-ness.  But I was wrong.

(Stop laughing.)

Change the tennis ball to an interesting conversation, and I’ll chase it till your arm gets tired without slowing my outrun.  As with Joule it’s the “bringing it home” that will show my weariness.  I’ll attack the idea, catch it up in a neat little package, then forget the point or how to bring it home.

So you’ve been warned.

~

Just now I feel like Joule after one of those outings: flopped out; eyes squinched shut, hoping everybody will choose to step over her rather than make her move out of the way.

And even so, you pull out that tennis ball and the light goes on in her eyes…

I’ve been warned…

This morning was going to be a phone calling day.  I think that will have to wait till tomorrow.

With my “finished” novel now working its way through the United States and (soon) the Far North, the question arises naturally about what I will do with my now copious amounts of free time.

That was a joke.  It’s okay to laugh.

The question arose while shopping with my kids yesterday and Natasha nearly exploded with delight when she suggested, “King’s Quest VI!”

I bought this from our library for $1, some months back, and all my family has been through it but me.  It enabled a significant amount of my work to get done while Jay helped the kids with it, and I feel no need anymore to do it myself.

“Or I could start my second novel,” I responded with equal enthusiasm.  “No,” she said.  “That wouldn’t be as interesting.”

But I did anyway, last night after seeing part of Stranger than Fiction and the pilot of Castle with Jay.

I *love* pilots.  I think the best storytelling happens there.

And this novel is going to be an entirely different experience.

~ ~ ~

If there is one thing about my first novel I’m not sure how to “fix,” it’s that the story seems more event-driven than character-driven.

Being based based on an established story can do that– one has a sort of check-list to get through.

This next story, Perfection Wasted, gets to be the opposite.  This story takes the premise “Every person is the main character in his/her own story,” and looks at a different story that is happening at the same time as part of Linnea’s Journey.

Yes, I know that’s a bland title, but just now, it’s the closest to applicable I’ve come up with.

This one has gets to be character-driven because, other than the events of the first novel it bumps into by proximity, there is no checklist for this story.  Only characters.

So far here’s my set of new main characters:

• A princess raised to be a pawn, secretly afraid she’s too smart for her own safety
• A prince raised to be king, hiding that he’s a coward
• The prince’s best friend and body guard, with divided loyalties
• Two evil women– one powerful in magic, the other in influence– and I have yet to see which one will prove worse.

They all exist in Linnea’s Journey, but I carefully avoided giving them POV, and I’m going to seat-of-the pants this one until I can decide if I really want to deal with a war (because that would be the ultimate question: can these people avert/fight/or win a war).

I don’t feel secure discussing politics, even in a novel, so I’ll have to get over that or find a different climax.

I am slightly ashamed to say that Linnea’s Journey does feel a bit like a novel lying in wait for a sequel, but it really was too big to get everything in there at once.

And I really like having a familiar cast to return to and play with.

Again.

Final stats for round five: 105,576 words, 39 scenes (depending on how you count), and 358 pages.

I was making a list of words to scan through and do clean-up on, but I think I’ll do that while they’re out with the test group.  I don’t expect line-editing from them, so I can do that while they look at the story.

I’m itching to read the whole thing again before I print it out, but I fear that would be a never-ending cycle.  So… happy birthday to me, I’m printing my novel today. I mean, tomorrow.

Jay was really jazzed about doing electronic copies to everyone, but the local people all want something in their hands, so I’ll get our printer busy with that.

~

I want to bind them too– maybe with cardstock covers for durability/portability, but I’m afraid that will look cheesy.  Thoughts?

I wonder how many of our likes and dislikes are tied directly to what we can and can’t do (or think we can and can’t do).

What if everything we disliked (for example, that game we hate to play) was only because we wern’t good at it?

If I was honest enough to see that, would I go on as I was, or try to change what I can do?

Till I turn 30.

No that’s not the point of this post. (But now you know, doncha.)

I’m nearly done with my final sweep. It’s come the same week as Jay’s been working longer hours, but God has been providing an encouraging ballance, so even with Jay gone more I haven’t been particularly slowed down.

(Though I did read a book yesterday, and that was refreshing.)

Still haven’t figured out what to do with Garm (Linnea’s sheep dog) for the end.  Jay said he should die somewhere while he’s out on the quest with Kennett, which really would solve all our problems… But mostly I’m resisting because I don’t want to waste emotional capital when there’s so many more significant things going on.

And I told Jay last night that I’m getting cold feet about sending my story out to be read by half a dozen near-strangers.  His loving supportive response:

Get over it.

Which, of course, was the right thing to say.  The main trouble is releasing it knowing readers will find flaws. Which will prove I’ve missed some.

I don’t think I pretend to be perfect, but with writing and rewriting I’ve sort of grown to feel that illusions of (near) perfection in a final product are appropriate.   And I realize I’m not going to be there, and that’s going to be disappointing to me.

And I need to get over it.

More than looking good myself, I want the story to look good, so that means handing it to people who will tell me what needs to be fixed.  What I’ve missed.

Though I will admit that my deepest fear is that somebody, very honest and apologetic, will tell me to be thankful only 6 people saw it because most of the story needs to be scrapped.

Next big project (I expect this revision to be done by the end of the week):

One-page summary.

I am in so much trouble.

You know how, in a “small town” everyone is related, and even those who aren’t related know the connections and hierarchy of everyone else?  Kids coming in halfway through 7th grade are going to be behind until they graduate from High School.

~

This is the feeling I’m trying to avoid in my novel.

It’s a small kingdom.  Okay, a small world.  It makes sense, but it only makes sense because the reader doesn’t get everything at once.  Like you would in a summary.

I’ve got my one-liner and used it about a dozen times now: Crippled girl disenchants beast but her happily-ever-after is interrupted when her new husband must leave on a quest and she finds herself facing new monsters, alone.

It’s worked 9-times out of 10.  Number 10 was this morning and my audience was distracted every-other-word, so the long sentence was too convoluted to follow.

But she asked for a longer summary, and I realized I am in *majo* trouble.

It must have taken me half an hour to work through it all (I really should have timed it), even leaving out half of one subplot and all of the other.  After doing detail work for weeks, I’m having to step back and ignore subtly and word craft and simply SAY:

This happens because of this to a person you care about because of this. The circumstances combine with this villain and these choices resulting in this.

The editor who agreed to look at my work when it was finished emphasized that this last this is especially important. TELL ME HOW IT ENDS, she insisted.  This is the person you want to amaze and charm and that doesn’t happen if you try to be coy.

To be honest, I don’t know how to be coy (*shocker* I know).  If I didn’t include the ending–before I know I needed to– it would be to save space.  To give more space to the rest of the story.

So I’ve been trying to think how to keep things short when this afternoon’s already proven that’s going to be a real challenge.

In the long version I think it’s cool that one storyline tangles with another, but for this version I wish they were a bit more self-contained.

I know I’ll get there, but griping just feels good every now and then.  I’ll pat myself on the back that no one has to see it very often, and I hope this will be all I say about it here.

Cheers.

(Done with 301 pages out of 357.  Over 7,000 words in this revision’s cut-bits file.)