Now I know you’re not the only starfish in the sea

So, let’s see…Day before yesterday — that would have been Wednesday — I needed to describe Carousel Sun (by which I mean to say, the book I submitted in February, and God, She Knows what it’s about because I’m three-quarters of the way through the sequel, and I surely don’t) in a couple paragraphs (aka 150-300 words) so that the spring sales tip sheet will have something on it that will make book buyers eager to stock the book.

This is one of those things that writers do which are double-edged, to say the least.  On the slicing edge, you’re glad the publisher has asked you for this input because they’ve got dozens of books on their plate, and you-the-author have only the one, and, presumably, you know your own work best (insert laugh track here).

On the thrusting edge, though, there’s the sad truth that I, at least, am a Lazy Writer and by gum if I could’ve told Carousel Sun in 300 words, I certainly wouldn’t have used 104,000 of the little beasts.  I’d’ve knocked the book out in an afternoon and then played for four months, until it was time to start the next book.  Trust me, at this point in the proceedings, I know myself.

So, it took a ridiculously long time to craft those words (this despite the fact that I had asked a long-suffering beta reader to help me define the principle storyline), but by the end of Wednesday, I had something I thought would work, sent it off, and got ready to do, yanno, work.

Except that the next section of story stalled, and no amount of pointing at the outline to show the characters what they were supposed to do next elicited anything more than yawns and a conversation among themselves about whose turn it was to send out for pizza — which long-time readers of this blog will recognize as a sure sign that — yes, you in the corner wearing the pink flamingo t-shirt. . .

Yes, exactly that.

It means that The Author Screwed Up.

So instead of writing any words, I went back over the last 75 pages of manuscript, looking for the place where I turned left when I should’ve turned right.

Fortunately, it was easy to spot — a case of the sub-plot moving along quicker than the main plot.  It’s also fairly easy to fix, if frustrating for a writer who is trying to make words and have a complete draft done in twelve days.

Yesterday, then, I pulled 2,490 words of sub-plot out of the book, and carefully saved them for later use; then I wrote 2,252 brand new words.  Today, I hope to write very many more words than this because I have news of two things that will be landing on my desk in the next couple days which will have precedence over this book.

So! another chapter in the exciting life of a writer.  I know, I know. . .not for the fainthearted.

And now?  I’m going back to work.

Everybody take care.

* * *

Progress on Carousel Seas

73,706/100,000 words OR 74% complete

I looked up.  “My point is that any sentence that starts off with, No, but Bel — really needs to be finished, so I don’t have nightmares.”

One thought on “Now I know you’re not the only starfish in the sea”

  1. Re your music tag: The Cyrkle’s “Red Rubber Ball” is one of my all-time-favorite guilty rock pleasures. I love that bright jangly little piece of fluff! (Although, come to think of it, a song about getting OVER lovesickness is much better than the more common you-have-blighted-my-life-forever.)

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