Itchy Fingers

I'm still buzzed over finishing book II. I find myself drumming my fingers, thinking about chapter 1 of book 1 which needs a total overhaul rewrite. On my lunch hour at work I've been doing a chapter by chapter synopsis, and peppered throughout are many, many notes to myself in red. They didn't bum me out, those notes. They seemed to be shining little bits of things I already knew, and much of it was just tying up to things that happened later already.

I am surprised. I was looking forward to the generous days off I gave myself, including one entire day off on Wednesday, where I didn't even have to go to my day job. I spent the whole day thinking about writing. First, I pulled out some notebooks I keep for my "novel ideas" (thank you for not laughing.) First: Endways of the Gods. A huge, HUGE idea that made me quiver in my fairy boots. I'm not quivering too much anymore. I think I can tackle it. After reading the notes, a scene come dancing out of the aether, and I banged it out on the Neo (little word processing device - Thank you Angie!) Then I had another idea show up while I was trying to enjoy Lord of the Rings for the umpteenth time. I didn't know what this idea is, so I wrote up some notes. I still don't know if there's a real story there, or is it just another orphan world/bit of magic that never finds a plot.

I've written a total of four novels now, and it was GREAT to finish this one. It was AWESOME! Now I only have one more leg of the story to write. The funny thing is that finishing the novel didn't make me feel any different. Wednesday did. On Wednesday, my "day off", I suddenly felt like a writer.

Book II is done!

I don't know at what point I moved beyond the simple arrogance of "I am writing a novel" to "I am writing a trilogy" but I did. I don't know how I made the leap, but people should understand, it is not the arrogance of "I am writing a trilogy because I am such a stud," it's the insecurity of "I don't know if I have it in me to write a trilogy, let's start writing one, and not query or move on it until it is done." I've taken another step towards that goal, because on Sunday, August 16th, I finished book II! I am so stoked.

It's a tempered, happiness (really - please, I don't need all the Absolute Writers who saw me cavorting in every thread, scampering like a drunk in Vegas, laughing and drowning out my seriousness, here!) I know I have serious work to do. The first book doesn't stand alone, or have an excellent summed-up stopping point. It just sorta flops around and runs out of breath. I'm already thinking about tweaking, and I know I have the mother of all rewrites coming. However, who said the unwritten page can't be edited? Well, I have 1002 pages to edit. Yay me! (that's two books of pages... I did not write one book that's a 1000 pages... just for to clarify!)

In celebration: I give you pictures of my Cricket. I loves mah kitteh...

"I'm cuter than Faireh! See?"

"Mama, what you do with my ears?"

"Sure, take undignified picture of me. Just cuz I don't have thumbs. I seen you naked. And I have claws."

Her majesty, displeased.

"Sure, stack books. Rest of your crap in piles. Have you changed the litterbox yet? Get to it. I don't have all day. I have sleeping to do, and later, I gotta scratch up the screens."

shhhh..... the beast... it slumbers...

Update

I haven't been blogging or following anyone's blog lately, but the good new is: I am writing. I'm so near the end I can taste it! I gave up worrying about word counts, because I would keep stopping to check where I was at, and anything that stops or distracts me is not a good thing: I have the attention span of my 4 month old kitten when I write. In the last week, I've had an 11 page day and a 13 page day. I know that pales in comparison to some of my uber-word count colleagues, but I am happy with 4 or 5 pages a day, so 13 is like 3 days of work for me.

I have embarked on the diet, and it's going... ok.... The pre-packaged food is nasty, but I am enjoying the simple pleasures of grapefruit and apples, spinach out of bags with low calerie dressing. They taste like ambrosia after undercooked pasta and lumps of mystery meat in foul, gloppy sauce. Now if I could only conquer insomnia.

Well, I am still walking around in the darkness, but I am making some strides. I think I see clearly the things that need to be fixed in book II (The Truthsayer's Plot) - namely, it needs to have more about the Truthsayer's Plot in it. When in doubt, read your title, people. I have also had a muse-bomb, in that I realize a perfect reason why my Queen Regent is such a hag towards the Dragongar. I've really gotten my notes in order. I also busted out eleven pages on Sunday (after spending much of Saturday sobbing and much of Friday sleeping. I guess I can only do one thing at a time.)

I am still being terribly oversensitive and letting things get to me that I shouldn't. Little peas under the mattress are like boulders these days. And I kinda hate myself for it. One of the things I'm doing to improve things is working on my diet. I have a friend who is going to join me on a crusade to eat better. We were going to start slow: adding fruits and veg (the quantity you are SUPPOSED to eat, not just the onions and peppers that happen to be on the deep dish pizza. Oh, and the tomatoes...) for a week, then cut out fatty foods (...alas for the pizza...) then cut out deserts (yeah, ouch!). But she went and bought Nutrisystem and talked me into it. I can't afford it for long, that's for sure, but perhaps it will kickstart me. And the fruits and veg thing is so important: I KNOW when I eat more of the good stuff I feel better, it's simply a matter of being lazy... and oh how I hate throwing out food, which seems like always happens to the perishable stuff. Which means running to the store every couple of days. Oh well, I could use the exercise walking in from the parking lot...

Wish me luck!