Every time my phone gives me an audio notification, it takes me off guard and I freak the hell out, inside my brain. There’s got to be a way around that one. You know what? Don’t worry about it. I’ll think of something.
Sooo, it looks like I’m going to be rearranging some stuff in the narrative. See, originally I wanted to put the beginning in the middle and the middle in the beginning, and then naturally have the end be at the end and nowhere else. But, after some thought, I really think the beginning should be in the beginning, y’know? Yeah, I think that’s the ticket. It’s not a huge deal, but I wish I would have had it that way originally. I know you know exactly what I mean.
I’m sure that last paragraph was great reading for everybody. Unfortunately, I don’t know how my backspace key works. It’s genetic. My mom has the same problem.
I should have the initial edit and formatting done in a couple weeks. After that I’m going to give some potential reviewers a gander at it in exchange for an honest review and rating here come Publish Day. If anybody’s interested in getting their hands on an advanced reading copy, free of charge, and would be so nice as to rate and review the book when it comes out, we might be able to help each other out. Feel free to send me an email with your contact information if you’re interested (author@derekkohlhagen.com), and we’ll see what happens. No promises, just sending a line out.
Still working on the phone thing. If only there was a way to reduce the noise and, say, have it vibrate or something, instead. I’m going to invent that and get paaaaaaid.
As it turns out, my previous cover wouldn’t make the grade, print-wise, so I had to go and change that baby. I grew photo editing muscles like the Hulk, found a new image I liked, and slapped some Derek on it to fit my diabolical needs. I think it turned out okay...really poppy...orange, black, and white. It still has the spooky birds, which I need, and also a barren tree, which is appropriate, all against a blazing fire of a sky.
I really like it. I like it so much that I think I deserve a treat of some sort, like a cheese single and a slice of bologna rolled up together. Yeah. I think that will do just fine.
Took a few days off to educate myself on the “after-edit” stuff...publishing options and book covers and what-not. Found that, much to my chagrin, the image I chose for the cover is all handy-dandy for ebooks, but lacks the pixels per inch for a decent printed copy. Evidently, if I try to use it for the physical book, the cover will look like roadkill floating in tomato soup.
Not that there’s anything WRONG with that. Not judging roadkill appreciators. There could be a real lucrative roadkill performance art market that I could tap into. Note to self. Writing down for later investigation.
SOOO, it appears that the cover image will be changing. I’d still like to go with the “spooky crow/bird spooking you out in front of a spooky scary sunset” kind of thing, but of course that will depend on what I can dig up in the creative commons, royalty free, no-pay-for-cool-images places I frequented yesterday. I’m cheap. No...fiscally creative! There’s a bunch of great pics on those sites...just gotta figure out what I can format to the appropriate size...6 by 9 inches, specifically...and have it still look eye-poppingly stupentacular. All of those are words, now.
I’m tired, this morning. I got an average amount of sleep, but I’m still tired. Must be a sleep exerciser.
I learned some more about stuff I have to do AROUND the core of the editing stuff I’m already doing. Trying to appear like I have my shit together enough to hit a publish date that I have to figure out. I’m still pretty back-patting that I got the manuscript done in the month I was aiming for...but yeah, if you’re self-publishing, know that there’s a mountain behind the already-impressive-molehill. But, I hear there’s a party at the summit, so on we go.
Back...to....
(snore)
Wha...huh...leave me alone, monster-that’s-shaped-like-my-fledgling-career-as-an-author!!!
Now that I’m getting down to it, I’m finding that I know just about jack squat about actually getting this thing published. Donning my super research cape, I’ve been spending a lot of time dumping things in my brain. My brain complains, but then again my brain doesn’t know what is good for it. I do.
So now, it’s time to slap (read: gently and deliberately place) together a marketing plan, one part of which being this handy-dandy blog that I need to update on a more frequent basis. Blogs are great...they connect with “the folks” (that being you guys), and give the writer (arguably, that’s me) a platform to regularly spew their shit, tasteless, useless, or otherwise. It’s good practice...keeps the craft beefy and slathered with A1 sauce.
Mmmmm. Steak.
So I dipped my head into all the stuff I have to do to get the book ready to officially publish, business-wise, and immediately I yanked it out, ran away wiping it from my eyes, and ran into the nearest wall. It’s...intimidating. There are, as it turns out, many facets to producing a book outside of actually writing the damn thing. Who knew? Everybody but me, I’m sure.
Step one is to self-promote! Yes, if you want to sell a book, you gots to connect with the peeps. I’ll be adding an option to the site to jump on an emailing list (that was supposed to sound modern and tech-awesome, but came out kind of...um...poopy) so I can send out a regular newsletter of my progress, and of course keep me in whatever valuable corner of brain real estate you’d rather I not occupy.
You’ll want me out...oh, you’ll want me out, but I’m a brain fungus, baby. I get in there and I grow. I’m sorry...that was gross.
I also was terrified of releasing the book to the general public without first having some preliminary eyes on it. Thankfully, there’s a way to do that, too. I get to badger some unfortunate people into reading the book before it’s an actual book! Ha ha...take that, people. I just hope my fragile ego can take the feedback. I may look real tough (not to mention handsome) on the outside, but inside I’m all glass and balsa wood. And protein!
So, yeah, the PR push is going to be starting soon. To this point, I really haven’t even shared the site with anybody. I guess I’ll have to do that, huh?
Argh!! So scary!! I’m going to have to craft a comforting hand puppet that I can turn to in times of doubt, and abuse when I need the release.
It happened yesterday, with a final keystroke and a feeling of exaltation. I looked at the last words and thought of all the previous ones that had led me to that moment, of all the hopes and too-long-delayed hours of work that had produced them. I just about dislocated my shoulder patting myself on the back, because, unlike some other achievements in my life, I knew I deserved it.
The raw draft of The Footsteps of Cain is finished.
There are plenty of revisions to be made...in fact I'm sure I'll encounter many sections of it that will make me downright cringe when I encounter them, again...but 471 or so pages isn't something to sneeze at.
I'm just realizing I don't quite understand that idiom. I've never, in my life, sneezed at something that I considered to be inferior. That would be gross and spread disease.
So, on to the next phase; the edits. Time to stamp out all those pesky logic issues and inconsistent details, and just generally make the crappy stuff...better. I make a habit of rereading the stuff I wrote the day before and making some minor grammatical changes to it, so I've been doing some of that already. My hopes are that that habit has at least brought up the readability from “yikes” to “mmm, okay”. In the next run, I'm going to do my damndest to bring “mmm, okay” to “huh...pretty good”. Of course, if I get lucky and I get up to “hey, wow”, I'll take a champagne bubble bath, and everybody who wouldn't consider it creepy can come on over and hop in.
Upon further consideration, I'll be doing that alone. At an undisclosed time. In my mind. No offense...I just don't know where you guys have been.
I can't believe I made it here. I've been waiting for years to be able to focus on this; it's really gratifying to have produced something tangible, at whatever level of quality. So I'll pin an “Atta-boy” medal on my own chest and feel pretty good about it.
I'm thinking of changing the blog somewhat, to include an option for people to subscribe to notifications for new posts through email, if I can, even though for some reason Weebly doesn't recommend it. Whatever. You don't own me, Weebly. I'm sorry, Weebly...that wasn't necessary. You've been good to me, and I should appreciate that.
Damn you, holidays. How dare you get in the way of THE WORK. You really are a jerk. Hey, I rhymed! That was totally unintentional.
Despite the massive speed bump of the break, I do have something to report. Just before I saturated myself with cookies and presents, I did hit a milestone. 400 pages! 100,000 words! That was my original estimate, quantity-wise, and I'm kind of psyched that I made it there. If I had to guess, I'm thinking that I've got another 10,000 to 15,000 to go, and I'll stamp this puppy as “kind of finished”!. Kind of, because of the whole editing thing, which of course will be lickity-split, because of COURSE I'm SO GOOD that the manuscript in it's raw form is PERFECT. (Bluster bluster bluster...ego ego ego.)
Okay...maaaaaybe there will still be some work to be done. I've divided the book into three acts, or “books”. The first and third, I think are pretty strong. It's that pesky middle one that's going to need the most work. I am really happy how the third act is concluding...I think things are getting wrapped up alright. Although, I'm sure that when I go back through I'll realize that I forgot something HUGE, like neglecting to mention something really important, like how, in the distant dystopian future, nobody bothers to wear pants. EVER.
Was that a red herring? A ruse? Or, in fact, is it critical plot exposition??? You'll never know. I mean, you will...that is...when I finish this thing and get it the eff out of the factory and into the hands of the consuming public.
I'm pretty happy. February was and is my original delivery time, and I think I'm still going to make it, as long as something horrible doesn't happen. Even if it slips, I can still say that I've done a decent job committing to the progress. Yay, me. (Back slapping sound.)
The funny thing about these posts is that I'm not sure that anybody actually reads them. I haven't really done much to promote myself yet, because I don't like saying things like “Hey, guys! I'm Derek! I'm writing a book! Oh...no...it's not done yet...but if you'll wait a few months I'll have it all ready!” I just figure that people might forget about it, and not come back to paint my greedy hands with their hard-earned greenbacks. (There. You've make me spill my ultimate intentions.) But, if anybody really is seeing this...well...then thanks. :)
The era of “pre-first-book” is a special kind of purgatory. There's nothing to point to, other than the idea of a product. Everything is just preamble and intent...there's nothing concrete, other than a web page and a bio. Sigh. I've wanted this for so long. The last few yards are truly the longest.
But, when it's all written and done, I'll be a world-famous, lambo-driving, surrending-to-excess SOB, and I'll be loving it. Or, the book will suck, and I'll live the rest of my life inside my literal closet.
Twenty more pages written, but more importantly, I think I'm finished with the rough form of acts one and two of the story, tied together with a fancy word bow...
...for I am NOTHING if not...fancy.
That just leaves the third act to be completed. Aaaaaand, it shouldn't be nearly as long as the first. I have a clear idea where I want things to go, and what major stuff has to get done or explained along the way. Spirits are up, happiness reigns...the only thing that would make this better would be a piping hot, brand new apple pie in my lap.
Or, maybe a luke-warm apple pie in my lap. Y'know, with my tender loins and all. (I set out with this post trying to see if I could include the words “tender loins” somewhere. I just won...against...myself....)
I'm having a ball, but even so, I just want to get this thing done! I feel like I've been waiting for this...who knows...most of my life maybe, either consciously or unconsciously. It's almost...almost, mind you...secondary to me if the story is any good or not. Just having something out there with my name on it...the prospect makes me all tingly. Yup. Like warm apple pie on my loins. Callback!
I hope everybody's doing well. Life got really crappy at the end of last week, with the Paris attacks. Can't stop thinking about what's been going on over there. I'm a pretty easy-going, peaceful sort of person, so “assholes with guns” is something that I just can't compute. I have a daughter. She's young, but I despair thinking that this is the world I have to acquaint her with. Let's just hope there's some scientific “peace breakthrough” or something within the next ten or fifteen years. In the meantime, let's try to keep the guns away from the assholes.
Hello, milestone. It's me, Derek. I assume that you heard I would be arriving, all fancied up and surfing a handstand along my word wave! Whooshy whooshy. Splashy splashy. And for no apparent reason...honk.
What's that, milestone? Oh, yes, I WILL sit down to your table and have a big old steak of self-satisfaction...raw and ragged, to appropriately symbolize the journey thus far. It might not seem like a lot to some, but to me, 75,000 words of anything is a whole heap of...well...something. Hell, I could just type the word “story” 75,000 times, and although that wouldn't exactly added up to anything of what you might call “narrative value”, the sheer deluge of words alone should be impressive, dammit.
I have two time-lines that I'm dealing with...one in the distant past, and one in the distant future. It's been a challenge to figure out exactly how to present them, whether it be concurrently or separately. I think I've settled on separately, although I realize at a risk of interrupting the flow. I'm not a huge fan of that, but I think it would be less confusing, overall. Also, that way, I get to divide the novel into three “books”, or “acts”, and include cool, meaningful pages that announce each one, like “BOOK ONE: THE BOOKENING” or “BOOK TWO: THE THUNDER BOOK”.
As an aside, "The Thunder Book" is now officially a project in my idea list. You saw it here first. You can't have it. IT'S MINE.
That's about 300 pages, you guys. 100 or so to go.
Yikes. I'm working on a scene in the book that is emotionally charged like crazy. A man and a boy are discussing things they've lost, and finding some comfort in the voids in one another's lives. It's been an interesting look into the differences in the emotional states and dynamics of children and adults. Knowing what I know of myself, and what I know of my own daughter has helped figure out the right things to say.
One thing I've discovered is that the emotions of adults have more inertia than those of children. They don't swing as freely as the hyper-temporary, soup-bubble feelings of kids. Children can feel the most intense loss and the most profound joy before any adult can even begin to figure out what's going on in their own head. Adults' emotions are ships at sea; kids' are leaves in splashed puddles.
Writing about it makes me yearn for that emotional impermanence again. How great it would be to be able to pull oneself out of something dark so quickly, even considering that one could be right back down there in a blink.
I miss being young. I miss that ignorance, that ant-sized perspective.
Ugh. This is a difficult one, especially since I know where the scene is going.
I stand atop a pile of words. 54,528 of them, to be precise.
That is the most recent count, the most recent clump of language and raw ore pulled from the earth, that I've generated for The Footsteps of Cain. Good, bad, and everything in between.
Of my estimation, I believe I'm about half-way to a...deep breath here...finished piece! Since I've been able to focus full-timeish (at least as full time as I can with my 7 year old at school and a perpetual mountain of house work and keep-my-family-alive food preparation that I SUPPOSE I should commit to), I've been able to crank out 20,000 words, or thereabouts. For me, that's about a month and a half of work.
I've passed in and out of a couple different types of certainty on the journey; certainty that part of what I've generated is good, and certainty that part of it sucks in the most cringe-worthy sense. I feel like I have too many one-dimensional puppets, and I know that in my second run through I'm going to try to breathe more life and blood into them...take felt and make it flesh. The view from inside a story, especially for someone like me with little experience, can be a very constricting one; I wonder and fear what fresh eyes will reveal about it when they see it.
Walk forward with fear, old man, and let it keep your eyes open.
Every time my phone gives me an audio notification, it takes me off guard and I freak the hell out, inside my brain. There’s got to be a way around that one. You know what? Don’t worry about it. I’ll think of something.
Sooo, it looks like I’m going to be rearranging some stuff in the narrative. See, originally I wanted to put the beginning in the middle and the middle in the beginning, and then naturally have the end be at the end and nowhere else. But, after some thought, I really think the beginning should be in the beginning, y’know? Yeah, I think that’s the ticket. It’s not a huge deal, but I wish I would have had it that way originally. I know you know exactly what I mean.
I’m sure that last paragraph was great reading for everybody. Unfortunately, I don’t know how my backspace key works. It’s genetic. My mom has the same problem.
I should have the initial edit and formatting done in a couple weeks. After that I’m going to give some potential reviewers a gander at it in exchange for an honest review and rating here come Publish Day. If anybody’s interested in getting their hands on an advanced reading copy, free of charge, and would be so nice as to rate and review the book when it comes out, we might be able to help each other out. Feel free to send me an email with your contact information if you’re interested (author@derekkohlhagen.com), and we’ll see what happens. No promises, just sending a line out.
Still working on the phone thing. If only there was a way to reduce the noise and, say, have it vibrate or something, instead. I’m going to invent that and get paaaaaaid.
Back to work.
As it turns out, my previous cover wouldn’t make the grade, print-wise, so I had to go and change that baby. I grew photo editing muscles like the Hulk, found a new image I liked, and slapped some Derek on it to fit my diabolical needs. I think it turned out okay...really poppy...orange, black, and white. It still has the spooky birds, which I need, and also a barren tree, which is appropriate, all against a blazing fire of a sky.
I really like it. I like it so much that I think I deserve a treat of some sort, like a cheese single and a slice of bologna rolled up together. Yeah. I think that will do just fine.
Hope you guys like it too! Smiley face.
Took a few days off to educate myself on the “after-edit” stuff...publishing options and book covers and what-not. Found that, much to my chagrin, the image I chose for the cover is all handy-dandy for ebooks, but lacks the pixels per inch for a decent printed copy. Evidently, if I try to use it for the physical book, the cover will look like roadkill floating in tomato soup.
Not that there’s anything WRONG with that. Not judging roadkill appreciators. There could be a real lucrative roadkill performance art market that I could tap into. Note to self. Writing down for later investigation.
SOOO, it appears that the cover image will be changing. I’d still like to go with the “spooky crow/bird spooking you out in front of a spooky scary sunset” kind of thing, but of course that will depend on what I can dig up in the creative commons, royalty free, no-pay-for-cool-images places I frequented yesterday. I’m cheap. No...fiscally creative! There’s a bunch of great pics on those sites...just gotta figure out what I can format to the appropriate size...6 by 9 inches, specifically...and have it still look eye-poppingly stupentacular. All of those are words, now.
I’m tired, this morning. I got an average amount of sleep, but I’m still tired. Must be a sleep exerciser.
I learned some more about stuff I have to do AROUND the core of the editing stuff I’m already doing. Trying to appear like I have my shit together enough to hit a publish date that I have to figure out. I’m still pretty back-patting that I got the manuscript done in the month I was aiming for...but yeah, if you’re self-publishing, know that there’s a mountain behind the already-impressive-molehill. But, I hear there’s a party at the summit, so on we go.
Back...to....
(snore)
Wha...huh...leave me alone, monster-that’s-shaped-like-my-fledgling-career-as-an-author!!!
Oh man...it was just a dream. Or...was it???
Back to work.
Now that I’m getting down to it, I’m finding that I know just about jack squat about actually getting this thing published. Donning my super research cape, I’ve been spending a lot of time dumping things in my brain. My brain complains, but then again my brain doesn’t know what is good for it. I do.
So now, it’s time to slap (read: gently and deliberately place) together a marketing plan, one part of which being this handy-dandy blog that I need to update on a more frequent basis. Blogs are great...they connect with “the folks” (that being you guys), and give the writer (arguably, that’s me) a platform to regularly spew their shit, tasteless, useless, or otherwise. It’s good practice...keeps the craft beefy and slathered with A1 sauce.
Mmmmm. Steak.
So I dipped my head into all the stuff I have to do to get the book ready to officially publish, business-wise, and immediately I yanked it out, ran away wiping it from my eyes, and ran into the nearest wall. It’s...intimidating. There are, as it turns out, many facets to producing a book outside of actually writing the damn thing. Who knew? Everybody but me, I’m sure.
Step one is to self-promote! Yes, if you want to sell a book, you gots to connect with the peeps. I’ll be adding an option to the site to jump on an emailing list (that was supposed to sound modern and tech-awesome, but came out kind of...um...poopy) so I can send out a regular newsletter of my progress, and of course keep me in whatever valuable corner of brain real estate you’d rather I not occupy.
You’ll want me out...oh, you’ll want me out, but I’m a brain fungus, baby. I get in there and I grow. I’m sorry...that was gross.
I also was terrified of releasing the book to the general public without first having some preliminary eyes on it. Thankfully, there’s a way to do that, too. I get to badger some unfortunate people into reading the book before it’s an actual book! Ha ha...take that, people. I just hope my fragile ego can take the feedback. I may look real tough (not to mention handsome) on the outside, but inside I’m all glass and balsa wood. And protein!
So, yeah, the PR push is going to be starting soon. To this point, I really haven’t even shared the site with anybody. I guess I’ll have to do that, huh?
Argh!! So scary!! I’m going to have to craft a comforting hand puppet that I can turn to in times of doubt, and abuse when I need the release.
I think I’ll call him...Punchy.
Back to work.
It happened yesterday, with a final keystroke and a feeling of exaltation. I looked at the last words and thought of all the previous ones that had led me to that moment, of all the hopes and too-long-delayed hours of work that had produced them. I just about dislocated my shoulder patting myself on the back, because, unlike some other achievements in my life, I knew I deserved it.
The raw draft of The Footsteps of Cain is finished.
There are plenty of revisions to be made...in fact I'm sure I'll encounter many sections of it that will make me downright cringe when I encounter them, again...but 471 or so pages isn't something to sneeze at.
I'm just realizing I don't quite understand that idiom. I've never, in my life, sneezed at something that I considered to be inferior. That would be gross and spread disease.
So, on to the next phase; the edits. Time to stamp out all those pesky logic issues and inconsistent details, and just generally make the crappy stuff...better. I make a habit of rereading the stuff I wrote the day before and making some minor grammatical changes to it, so I've been doing some of that already. My hopes are that that habit has at least brought up the readability from “yikes” to “mmm, okay”. In the next run, I'm going to do my damndest to bring “mmm, okay” to “huh...pretty good”. Of course, if I get lucky and I get up to “hey, wow”, I'll take a champagne bubble bath, and everybody who wouldn't consider it creepy can come on over and hop in.
Upon further consideration, I'll be doing that alone. At an undisclosed time. In my mind. No offense...I just don't know where you guys have been.
I can't believe I made it here. I've been waiting for years to be able to focus on this; it's really gratifying to have produced something tangible, at whatever level of quality. So I'll pin an “Atta-boy” medal on my own chest and feel pretty good about it.
I'm thinking of changing the blog somewhat, to include an option for people to subscribe to notifications for new posts through email, if I can, even though for some reason Weebly doesn't recommend it. Whatever. You don't own me, Weebly. I'm sorry, Weebly...that wasn't necessary. You've been good to me, and I should appreciate that.
Shutting up. Back to work.
Damn you, holidays. How dare you get in the way of THE WORK. You really are a jerk. Hey, I rhymed! That was totally unintentional.
Despite the massive speed bump of the break, I do have something to report. Just before I saturated myself with cookies and presents, I did hit a milestone. 400 pages! 100,000 words! That was my original estimate, quantity-wise, and I'm kind of psyched that I made it there. If I had to guess, I'm thinking that I've got another 10,000 to 15,000 to go, and I'll stamp this puppy as “kind of finished”!. Kind of, because of the whole editing thing, which of course will be lickity-split, because of COURSE I'm SO GOOD that the manuscript in it's raw form is PERFECT. (Bluster bluster bluster...ego ego ego.)
Okay...maaaaaybe there will still be some work to be done. I've divided the book into three acts, or “books”. The first and third, I think are pretty strong. It's that pesky middle one that's going to need the most work. I am really happy how the third act is concluding...I think things are getting wrapped up alright. Although, I'm sure that when I go back through I'll realize that I forgot something HUGE, like neglecting to mention something really important, like how, in the distant dystopian future, nobody bothers to wear pants. EVER.
Was that a red herring? A ruse? Or, in fact, is it critical plot exposition??? You'll never know. I mean, you will...that is...when I finish this thing and get it the eff out of the factory and into the hands of the consuming public.
I'm pretty happy. February was and is my original delivery time, and I think I'm still going to make it, as long as something horrible doesn't happen. Even if it slips, I can still say that I've done a decent job committing to the progress. Yay, me. (Back slapping sound.)
The funny thing about these posts is that I'm not sure that anybody actually reads them. I haven't really done much to promote myself yet, because I don't like saying things like “Hey, guys! I'm Derek! I'm writing a book! Oh...no...it's not done yet...but if you'll wait a few months I'll have it all ready!” I just figure that people might forget about it, and not come back to paint my greedy hands with their hard-earned greenbacks. (There. You've make me spill my ultimate intentions.) But, if anybody really is seeing this...well...then thanks. :)
The era of “pre-first-book” is a special kind of purgatory. There's nothing to point to, other than the idea of a product. Everything is just preamble and intent...there's nothing concrete, other than a web page and a bio. Sigh. I've wanted this for so long. The last few yards are truly the longest.
But, when it's all written and done, I'll be a world-famous, lambo-driving, surrending-to-excess SOB, and I'll be loving it. Or, the book will suck, and I'll live the rest of my life inside my literal closet.
Or, perhaps somewhere in between. Tally ho!
Back to work.
Twenty more pages written, but more importantly, I think I'm finished with the rough form of acts one and two of the story, tied together with a fancy word bow...
...for I am NOTHING if not...fancy.
That just leaves the third act to be completed. Aaaaaand, it shouldn't be nearly as long as the first. I have a clear idea where I want things to go, and what major stuff has to get done or explained along the way. Spirits are up, happiness reigns...the only thing that would make this better would be a piping hot, brand new apple pie in my lap.
Or, maybe a luke-warm apple pie in my lap. Y'know, with my tender loins and all. (I set out with this post trying to see if I could include the words “tender loins” somewhere. I just won...against...myself....)
I'm having a ball, but even so, I just want to get this thing done! I feel like I've been waiting for this...who knows...most of my life maybe, either consciously or unconsciously. It's almost...almost, mind you...secondary to me if the story is any good or not. Just having something out there with my name on it...the prospect makes me all tingly. Yup. Like warm apple pie on my loins. Callback!
I hope everybody's doing well. Life got really crappy at the end of last week, with the Paris attacks. Can't stop thinking about what's been going on over there. I'm a pretty easy-going, peaceful sort of person, so “assholes with guns” is something that I just can't compute. I have a daughter. She's young, but I despair thinking that this is the world I have to acquaint her with. Let's just hope there's some scientific “peace breakthrough” or something within the next ten or fifteen years. In the meantime, let's try to keep the guns away from the assholes.
Be good to each other, okay?
Back to work.
Hello, milestone. It's me, Derek. I assume that you heard I would be arriving, all fancied up and surfing a handstand along my word wave! Whooshy whooshy. Splashy splashy. And for no apparent reason...honk.
What's that, milestone? Oh, yes, I WILL sit down to your table and have a big old steak of self-satisfaction...raw and ragged, to appropriately symbolize the journey thus far. It might not seem like a lot to some, but to me, 75,000 words of anything is a whole heap of...well...something. Hell, I could just type the word “story” 75,000 times, and although that wouldn't exactly added up to anything of what you might call “narrative value”, the sheer deluge of words alone should be impressive, dammit.
I have two time-lines that I'm dealing with...one in the distant past, and one in the distant future. It's been a challenge to figure out exactly how to present them, whether it be concurrently or separately. I think I've settled on separately, although I realize at a risk of interrupting the flow. I'm not a huge fan of that, but I think it would be less confusing, overall. Also, that way, I get to divide the novel into three “books”, or “acts”, and include cool, meaningful pages that announce each one, like “BOOK ONE: THE BOOKENING” or “BOOK TWO: THE THUNDER BOOK”.
As an aside, "The Thunder Book" is now officially a project in my idea list. You saw it here first. You can't have it. IT'S MINE.
That's about 300 pages, you guys. 100 or so to go.
Baaaaack...to work.
Yikes. I'm working on a scene in the book that is emotionally charged like crazy. A man and a boy are discussing things they've lost, and finding some comfort in the voids in one another's lives. It's been an interesting look into the differences in the emotional states and dynamics of children and adults. Knowing what I know of myself, and what I know of my own daughter has helped figure out the right things to say.
One thing I've discovered is that the emotions of adults have more inertia than those of children. They don't swing as freely as the hyper-temporary, soup-bubble feelings of kids. Children can feel the most intense loss and the most profound joy before any adult can even begin to figure out what's going on in their own head. Adults' emotions are ships at sea; kids' are leaves in splashed puddles.
Writing about it makes me yearn for that emotional impermanence again. How great it would be to be able to pull oneself out of something dark so quickly, even considering that one could be right back down there in a blink.
I miss being young. I miss that ignorance, that ant-sized perspective.
Ugh. This is a difficult one, especially since I know where the scene is going.
Back to work.
I stand atop a pile of words. 54,528 of them, to be precise.
That is the most recent count, the most recent clump of language and raw ore pulled from the earth, that I've generated for The Footsteps of Cain. Good, bad, and everything in between.
Of my estimation, I believe I'm about half-way to a...deep breath here...finished piece! Since I've been able to focus full-timeish (at least as full time as I can with my 7 year old at school and a perpetual mountain of house work and keep-my-family-alive food preparation that I SUPPOSE I should commit to), I've been able to crank out 20,000 words, or thereabouts. For me, that's about a month and a half of work.
I've passed in and out of a couple different types of certainty on the journey; certainty that part of what I've generated is good, and certainty that part of it sucks in the most cringe-worthy sense. I feel like I have too many one-dimensional puppets, and I know that in my second run through I'm going to try to breathe more life and blood into them...take felt and make it flesh. The view from inside a story, especially for someone like me with little experience, can be a very constricting one; I wonder and fear what fresh eyes will reveal about it when they see it.
Walk forward with fear, old man, and let it keep your eyes open.
Back to work.