Still typing with my eyes closed and slower than snot (sorry for the visual) so I thought I would just post a snip. Or three. Cut from Eve’s book after Eve and Ben rescue Hanna: “You’re frightening her more, Captain. Let me—“ “No time to coddle her, Doc. Wouldn’t be a favor anyway. Look around.” […]
Not much writing tonight. But that’s okay, what I did get done was important. I’m in a tricky bit right now. It’s a definite turning-point for a lot of things in my book, and the way I had it before was too rushed, and didn’t make much sense. So I did what we chickens must
Hee, I hate to post another blog, that will put Taro and Rafe off the page. *sigh* But I guess I’m about due for a progress report. So. Eve’s manuscript is at 68,000 words. I’m on chapter sixteen. I have written a chapter a week, a couple times twice a week, and missed one week
Page one, of the book that was. My story now starts 80 ms pages later, and is no longer first person. Meet Dr. Ben Alexander–who back then was Dr. Mark Gawlownskey. (don’t ask) I’m no fool. I didn’t belong down here. But if necessity is the mother of invention, desperation fathers recklessness. Since I needed
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Pull the plug, I’m brain-dead No, seriously. I’ve been working all day on a conversation between Eve and Ben, the two of my characters I know best, and it’s screwed. It sucks. Big time. I’m sick. That’s my excuse. I have a cold, and my concentration is just plain gone. But I did accomplish laundry
All right, demmit. Back to work. I made a screen saver and wallpaper of the actor cast as Ben in my novel. I opened it. I read the–well, I call it the Reader’s Digest condensed version. In four pages I try to cover the important points of 83 pages of the first draft. I tinkered