While some folks have to deal with Writers Block, I have to deal with this :

Little creep tried to eat my editing pen.

On a side note, anyone who has ever said a variation of “Writing is not real work” has never attempted to edit a novel.

On Saturday I set what I thought was a realistic goal of 50 pages.  I started at 10am.  I finished somewhere around 8pm.  Factor in an hour for lunch and another hour for yard work and that was easily an eight hour day.

In retrospect, I now see that was a bad number.  Fifty pages equals roughly 1/6th of the entire novel.  Today I took it easy and stuck with 25 pages.  That only took me about 5.5 hours to wrap up.

Would have been five without the cat.

Seven days off and it’s back to writing.

On the left is the completed draft of Genie Memories, double-spaced and Courier font-size 12.  334 pages.  Perfect for making notes.  On the right, the single spaced draft I used while actually writing the story.  Scattered throughout its pages are notes I made but didn’t want to go back and make the changes at the time.  Eventually I’ll consolidate it down to just one stack of papers.

I confess to being a bit surprised the completed draft comes to just 63,463 words.  I was shooting for around 90,000 and I still think the final product will end up near that number.  Extra scenes have to be added, characters fleshed out, a plot line here and there tweaked.  Plus there is the abandoned scenes folder which contains 19,400 words.  So in theory, I did write over 82,000 words.

The goal right now is to get this done by mid-December.  If it takes longer than that to get it right, then it’ll take longer but that’s what I’m thinking right now.

So what is it like to finish a novel?

That’s easy to answer – it’s just like finishing a marathon.

See?  Easy.  Now do you … what?  Wait … are you telling me you haven’t run a marathon?

Well, crap.

Okay, let me try to explain : It is well known among the running community that after finishing a marathon (especially the first one), one experiences a period of depression and maybe even a bit of loss.  You’ll try to work out but it’s done rather haphazardly and without much enthusiasm.  It can take weeks, even months before you jump back into a training plan.

The reason is simple really.  Running a marathon is a tremendous goal.  Weeks and months, maybe even half a year has been spent preparing for the event.  And as Steph said last night, “I spent months training for this and I’m done by noon!”

So that’s a lot like how it feels to finish a novel.  Over a year and a half of writing a story and I finished before dinner.

To combat this post-event (novel or marathon) lethargy, it is recommended to have a plan.  On the running front, that’s usually a few miles a day or sign up for another race.  Anything to keep the body moving and recharge the batteries.

My post-novel plan is to tackle a couple of short stories in need of editing and send them off to markets.  Then it’s the revision process which should take a couple of months.  Before either of those happen, I intend to recharge my batteries with reading, relaxation … and ironically enough, a little bit running.

At 6:58pm on Wednesday, October 20th, I finished the 1st draft of Genie Memories.

According to the time stamp on the file, I began Chapter One on April 15th 2009 at 9:42pm (CST).  That’s roughly eighteen months (1 year and 189 days if you want to get picky).  A little over one year since I took it to Viable Paradise.

That is a very long time to spend in one character’s head.  I feel that Theodore Steiner and I are very well acquainted.  Needless to say, we are both due for a vacation.

I’ll come back in a week or so and see how’s he doing.

Then I’ll gut the hell out of the sucker with a red pen.

I already know that one character will be completely written out.  Three or four chapters are going to be reduced or removed and another five or six added.  A couple of the characters and their relationships are going to change to make them more prominent and important to Theo.

But for now?  It’s time to do the traditional Snoopy dance.

Productivity – I be thy name.

Articles, a book review, and most importantly – Chapters 26, 27, and 28 of Genie Memories.  Chapter 29 is started and I should have it finished Thursday or Friday night.  After that, there are only two, maybe three more chapters until the entire book is finished.

Once that’s done, it’s a week off before I start digging into revisions.  I’ll try to get that done in a month, two at most.  Need to keep it tight.  That doesn’t mean I’m not doing revisions now.  I had an idea earlier today for changes to Chapter 1.  Given the importance of starting any book, I’m sure it’ll change ten more times but I liked the idea and had to put it into writing.

Lacking anything else blog worthy, I thought some of you might enjoy it as well.  Comments and what not are more than welcome.

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Genie Memories

Chapter One

Killing Barry was not going to be easy.  He was a Genie, after all.

Set aside the genetic mutations that gave him inhuman strength and a nigh indestructible body.  Forget years of crime and before that, crime fighting.  Barry  was a Genie.  Whatever Nature or Man had granted him, he had gifts that I could only dream of.

The blip replays were fond of the target range footage.  Barry, standing in the center of a gleaming halo, laughing off all but the most powerful rifle round.

I reached down and pulled the spark plug on the generator.  The old diesel sputtered and shook, rattling the patio as it died.  The web of full spectrum lights draped over the hunting lodge flickered a few times before going out, the bayou swallowed in darkness.  A pale sliver of moon, hidden behind clouds, was all that remained.

“God damnit.  Piece of discounted garbage.”

Barry’s voice carried from inside the lodge.  I couldn’t see anything but I could hear movement.  He tripped over something and thudded to the ground, letting out a string of curses.

I stepped back and flexed my hand around the grip of my Morgan-Colt 10mm, raised the pistol to point at the door.  I tried to image the cold sweat beading down my back came from the mist left behind by the late November rain.  I wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all myself.

The other Genies hadn’t made this any easier.

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