So, NaNoWriMo is going well. It will go better if I, well, write today. Since I still feel like a Mack truck has taken up residence between my ears, page count will be nominal, however... I will make every effort to go above goal because I am back into the interesting stuff, having rehashed all that needed rehashed. That is the one great flaw when writing a series. I have to write an interesting beginning, yes, while reintroducing all pertinent information just in case you have not read the prior stories. For me... rehash the entire series in a nutshell, reintroduce my characters in a fun way and feel like I am slogging through mud.
Having slogged through that primordial muck and now feeling like I have made it interesting enough that my new readers will not realize they have heard a recitation of prior books and introduced my plot line to them while at the same time introduced new readers to everything for the first time I can finally get down to telling everyone the story. Ah. We are all on the same hypothetical page. New story telling always writes easier for me. So, ill or not, I can now blast through pages. If I can blast through this icky, headachy, fevery, dry, chapped lipped feeling. I so hope this is not swine flu.
I have no symptoms other than I have a horrendous headache and feel as if I may have a fever and my lips are cracking. I want to crawl in a cave and die. The headache has caused the nausea, the nausea caused the dizziness and the dizziness caused the crabbiness.
Altogether, not the most creative combination.
Edits are going well. After initial frustration (how does it make her feel? She is a fly-by the seat of her pants kind of gal... she doesn't stop to think things through or else she wouldn't do fill-in-the-blank. How can I make her think things through here, then be oblivious to the fact she should be thinking them through here?) I realized I was over thinking it all and stepped back from the process and really looked at it. I then realized I was wrong and touchy and a moody author (No! Not me! Never a moody artistic type! I am an even tempered, calm... okay. No I am not.) and that the edits were right and I needed to shut up and get to work.
I got down to it and am half way done. I am so happy with my editor as she is brilliant. And deserving of a raise. If the editorial gods are listening to me, perhaps she will get one. And kind. She was not as harsh as she had to be when correcting one particular error repeatedly in my work. Probably after the tenth time, she had a burning need to find me and staple to my forehead a post-it advising me of one particular correction for future reference. As I have no post-it on my forehead... well, she is more patient than a certain author I know.
On the kid front, Justice has continued to survive the week and her love of a certian composer named boy has waned since speaking with his parent... who is actually pretty darn cool. Since David and he are friends, that is handy. The boys may get together.
Oh, and I may add one more pot to the ever increasing list of things I have going...
I may attempt a social life.
Cheese, wine and conversation. One would think I can handle that. Hmm.
Having slogged through that primordial muck and now feeling like I have made it interesting enough that my new readers will not realize they have heard a recitation of prior books and introduced my plot line to them while at the same time introduced new readers to everything for the first time I can finally get down to telling everyone the story. Ah. We are all on the same hypothetical page. New story telling always writes easier for me. So, ill or not, I can now blast through pages. If I can blast through this icky, headachy, fevery, dry, chapped lipped feeling. I so hope this is not swine flu.
I have no symptoms other than I have a horrendous headache and feel as if I may have a fever and my lips are cracking. I want to crawl in a cave and die. The headache has caused the nausea, the nausea caused the dizziness and the dizziness caused the crabbiness.
Altogether, not the most creative combination.
Edits are going well. After initial frustration (how does it make her feel? She is a fly-by the seat of her pants kind of gal... she doesn't stop to think things through or else she wouldn't do fill-in-the-blank. How can I make her think things through here, then be oblivious to the fact she should be thinking them through here?) I realized I was over thinking it all and stepped back from the process and really looked at it. I then realized I was wrong and touchy and a moody author (No! Not me! Never a moody artistic type! I am an even tempered, calm... okay. No I am not.) and that the edits were right and I needed to shut up and get to work.
I got down to it and am half way done. I am so happy with my editor as she is brilliant. And deserving of a raise. If the editorial gods are listening to me, perhaps she will get one. And kind. She was not as harsh as she had to be when correcting one particular error repeatedly in my work. Probably after the tenth time, she had a burning need to find me and staple to my forehead a post-it advising me of one particular correction for future reference. As I have no post-it on my forehead... well, she is more patient than a certain author I know.
On the kid front, Justice has continued to survive the week and her love of a certian composer named boy has waned since speaking with his parent... who is actually pretty darn cool. Since David and he are friends, that is handy. The boys may get together.
Oh, and I may add one more pot to the ever increasing list of things I have going...
I may attempt a social life.
Cheese, wine and conversation. One would think I can handle that. Hmm.
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