The draft is in! I finished my Phase II edits and have submitted Asteroid Made of Dragons to Inkshares for editorial review. My beta readers are also opening their emails just about now and feeling the white-hot beams of NERD across their faces. I'm excited/nervous, but I know the book is ready to be hated by people other than me. I'll keep you all updated as the notes come back in and how the timeline shapes up for the rest of the pre-production and -GASP -publishing of your book that you bought (you fools).

Spare Inkshares Credits?

Asteroid Made of Dragons - Mythos 14%

Hey - here's a thing.

I wonder if this embed code will work properly? It's a mystery! [SPOILER - it did not]

This is sort of a test, to see how easily I can share SoundCloud tracks with you guys - as a possible delivery system for Spell/Sword and Riddle Box audiobooks . Also sort of an introduction to the vast spaghetti sandwich of my personal storytelling mythology. I have written a lot of strange things and weirdo bullshit undercurrents and themes keep popping up again and again - characters, names, places, giant toads. This is a recording from the Shadeaux Bros' fifth Christmas album [they only have Christmas albums] - The Shadeaux Bros vs. The King of Forever. Lyrics D. Shadeaux/J. Shadeaux. Lead Vocals: J. Shadeaux. 

ALSO I AM EDITING STILL SHEESH. AND I AM NOT STRESSED OUT ABOUT PLEASING YOU PEOPLE.

Normal late-night backstage frazzle here - I'm in a production of By the Bog of Cats and opening night is tomorrow, so consider this a communique lobbed over the prison walls of exhaustion, Irish accents, and stage blood.

By the Bog of Cats - Publicity Shot - Town & Gown Players - Athens, GA - Matt Hardy -photographer

I finished PHASE I edits tonight and am ready to record my scratch audio book this weekend so I can make my deep dive and get the manuscript ready to submit to Inkshares and beta readers -- fingers crossed so hard that my knuckles crack, I'm hoping I'll be finished with Phase II edits by the time this show closes on August 16th. I have a tiny part in the show, which leaves me a couple of hours every night unspoken for sitting backstage -- I mean tomorrow night doesn't count because it's opening night and I have to focus on the fancy cake and libations that await, but YOU GET THE IDEA.

For my snippet du jour, here's the invocation that will appear at the beginning of the book. All of my other books begin with my invoking the Muse - as is only right and proper. If you are disinterested in Homeric poetry or the Greek pantheon, you can just think of it as a weird bit of poetry to set the mood before the golem fights and psychic dragon hi-jinks begin.

Sing in me, O Muse

of the moment when

of the moment then

her gray fingers

wrapped

and coiled

around my heart,

a circle.

Help me sing of the circle

the circle that cannot break

the center that should not hold

but does.

For now.

I'm going to put up a new chapter today - I realized that I've shared a few chapters so far - mainly focusing on the heroes: Jonas, Rime, Xenon. I thought it would be fun to give you all a peek at the Villains. Or at least...a very nasty group of antagonists?

You should all be receiving it later this afternoon - this is fresh from the current draft, so please forgive any typos or purple prose. This is the first chapter the readers meet the Hunt, the secret society dedicated to the eradication of the Wild Magic menace -- once a globe-spanning organization of supreme power and influence, now dwindled down to an old man in dented iron armor: Linus. At his side are three companions: a devil-blood assassin of dubious allegiance, a white sword that destroys any magic it comes in contact with, and a lifetime of memory and skill from tracking and eliminating wild mages.

Feedback is appreciated! Linus is my Zenigata, always on the trail of Rime and Jonas - it is extremely important that the reader feels that he is a suitable threat and worthy opponent. What do you think about him in this first chapter? Heroes are only as great as their villains...

The first draft of Asteroid Made of Dragons is complete.

This is minor news. We should all treat this in a low-key manner.

Okay, maybe I'm a little excited.

But - this is not my first rodeo. This is my THIRD rodeo, if rodeos were books about punching dinosaurs. Finishing the first draft is a very important step, an amazing step that feels like chocolate rockets exploding in my synapses -- BUT it's only the first step. Writing is re-writing as the old mantra goes, and the process of editing is where a draft become a book.  

So! Here's what's next: I have to get the draft ready to submit to the sharp-eyed people at Inkshares and my editor at Girl Friday Production. I want to get that done quickly - the sooner the better, but conservatively it's going to take at least 2-3 weeks. Here's my process for the First Pass Edit, for any of you other writers who wish to judge me cruelly.

1. Print out the draft! I write completely in Google Drive, and all of my re-writing and edits will be inputted there. But there's something very exciting about seeing that big stack of paper for the first time.

2. Find an Ultra Fine Sharpie in a fanciful color. But not red, red is too harsh. Something in a nice blue or green, so the edits seem like whimsical graffiti.

3. Read the draft for the first time. Just a basic read - only correcting glaring grammar goofs. This pass is for story structure, character voice,  tone - just how each scene and chapter lands. I'll make notes as I go for things to fix, add, change, etc.

4. Hate the book / love the book. Kind of a toss-up - generally an even measure of both.

5. Sit in shower and brood. 

6. Input edits from paper copy. This may mean just some minor tweaks or vast alterations. This is also when I start preparing a lot of targeted questions for my editor and beta readers -- I may find things that I HEART or ANTI-HEART, but just want to wait until I've got some other opinions and feedback on before I make the final call.

7. Record the updated draft. Nothing fancy, just me reading it as a quick and dirty MP3.

8. Listen to recording, edit as I listen. I've found this immensely helpful. Nothing makes me really hone in on bad sentence structure or places where the rhythm is off than having to listen to it. I'll also listen to the recording in the car while I'm driving - it helps me catch plot holes and things that don't make sense. Also! It will lead me to new ideas and tangents of thought, always  helpful during the revision process.

9. Repeat Step 5.

10. Submit draft to Inkshares and editor -- and my trusty beta readers. I've been some sort of filthy 'creative' most of my adult life. Writing, acting, shadow-infused Christmas albums, directing, etc. Art does not exist in a vacuum, criticism is essential to a both sharpen and influence the maker's vision. I've made major changes to other books because of beta reader feedback -- and I've also stomped my feet and refused despite all their logic and sensible advice, because I knew that what I saw, what I wrote was important to me. And I never would have known that if it wasn't challenged. Never would have explained it better if someone didn't ask. My beta readers are ice-veined heartbreakers - grammar titans -- crazed chaos-shamans - they punch me in the gut until I make the book better, and I love it. I love knowing that the book can get better and better. This is my first time with a professional editor and I am SALIVATING. 

More updates to come - hopefully more regularly now that I'm not madly trying to finish the draft all the time. I also have lots of news coming on those audiobooks  (some of?) you guys wanted and other details and wool-gathering on what AMOD is and can be and is becoming. I'll also continue to put up sweet pictures of dragons. 

Like this:

AHHHHH!!!!

Today's the day and I've still got chapters to go! EVERYONE remain calm, don't panic - who's panicking? I AM PANICKING. 

In all seriousness - everything is fine. I'm going to finish the first draft this weekend, then spend a couple of weeks doing a 'first pass' edit before I submit to Inkshares and the editing process begins in earnest. Writing is re-writing - the book is going to change and grow in so many ways after I send it over - BUT THAT GOLDEN BAR IN MY GOOGLE CALENDAR IS FREAKING ME OUT.

It's fine. It's fine. Everything's fine. I just worship at the Altar of Deadlines, so I get a little twitchy when I blow my self-imposed ones. I am not one of those writers who 'writes all the time - giggle!' or 'just can't stop writing! - ha ha!' I am a dilettante and lothario, left to my own devices it would just be occasional twitter posts in-between marathon video game sessions on my couch and drunken poetry-brawls with wandering bards. My first two books I lived in constant fear that I would just STOP...and never start again if I missed a deadline.

I'll update you guys again as soon as the draft is done - and FASCINATE you with the process I go through for my first-pass edit.

Here's a quick snippet from the current page of the draft, open now in another tab:

Jonas had just enough time to realize he understood the creature’s words before he saw the rainbow vapor ignite and a torrent of energy come screaming out of the dragon’s jaws. He surged forward, hoping to pull Xenon back from the assault, but Linus and his white sword were already there. The hunter stepped in front of her and the patchwork energies of the dragon’s breath were absorbed into the blank metal.

“Scholar Xenon, fall back.” Linus commanded. “Squire, you guard my back. I didn’t spot a tail on this creature, but it seems agile enough. We will keep its attention firmly fixed on us, understood?”

“Yes!” Jonas stepped into place, keeping one eye on Xenon’s retreat as she hurried back towards the lighted pathway behind them.

The dragon howled with rage -- or was it delight and breathed more of the ramshackle energy upon them. The white sword again devoured it. “The creature is mad. It’s been feeding on the life-force of its brethren for who knows how long. It’s breath is some bizarre mixture of different elemental types.”

“I’m just glad it breathes something the sword eats,” Jonas grunted.

“Yes, well - “ Linus shifted his grip on the white sword. “It appears he has grown bored with that tactic. Here he comes!”

“Does your magic sword happen to kill dragons with a single touch?” the squire spun to cover Linus’ right flank.

“I don’t know. Does yours?” the old man shifted his stance, keeping his elbow high.

Still writing - turning the corner on 50k in the draft tonight. End of the second act, now it's time for prophecies, laser fights, improper make-out sessions, and the coming of the Asteroid. Here's a sweet picture of a dragon. Talk to you guys again soon!

Updatery in  your facery!

I did hit an important personal milestone in the manuscript, I drew a map of Corinth.

I'm a little loopy - I was up past midnight programming light cues, one more night of rehearsal before the show opens and I can crawl back into my writer cave and get back to banging away on Asteroid Made of Dragons. Theatre is a crazy group endeavour - quite looking forward to solitary hermity goodness on the horizon. Though I am kind of in love with this promo shot from The Moonstone play:

Photo: Matt Hardy

It's been a little while since I shared any Xenon stuff with you all - so here's a snippet from one of her chapters. It's becoming an open secret that even though I've wandered with Jonas & Rime before, our scholar-goblin is quickly becoming the character I enjoy writing the most.

“Zee, why aren’t we leaving?” Mercury hissed in her ear. “Mother could wake up...any wandertime!”

“I’m not coming back, Mercy. Not this time. I can’t,” Xenon made her voiced stay calm, even though her heart slammed ceaselessly against her ribcage. She laid her hands on the black chain that was wrapped around the door handles of the shed. It had no lock, the steel links were welded together. It had been this way since her father -- had stopped giving instructions and telling stories.

“Zee. Zee! You can’t!” her sister writhed with panic. “Mother will--Mother will, I don’t even know what Mother will!”

Sorry, Mercury. Let’s see how bad you really want to go. “No turning back,” Xenon got a firm grip of the black chain in both hands and set her feet. She would never be as strong as some goblins, but in a pinch she could bend steel carpenter-nails without wincing. With a sharp exhale she grunted and snapped the chains apart and threw them aside. Both sisters paused and pressed themselves against the shed door in a breathless moment of terror, waiting for the sound of their mother’s approach.

When only the distant sound of the philosophers stumbling further down their street came, Xenon slowly stood and turned her head to look into her sister’s wide eyes. “I told you before. What I found, it’s important and it’s dangerous. And it’s my job to figure it out, I’m not dumping it someone else’s plate. I took the little gold I have left, but if I’m going to figure this out, I need, well, transportation.”

Mercury said nothing, only stared at the shed door with reverential awe. Xenon took a deep breath and flung open the shed doors, where the light of the three moons could fall upon the contents.

It was all curves. It was midnight blue, like the darkest deeps of the sea. It was beautiful and covered with dust.

Xenon swung into saddle and ran her thumbs along the throttle, the starter switches, the display panel that still gave off a faint light, even as the machine slumbered. She shook Mercury off her shoulder until her sister’s bottom was on the seat. A quick wipe with her cloak removed the worst of the dust from the panel and showed that there was plenty of energy still in the reserve. She closed her eyes, just for a moment, and let herself listen to the stories underneath her feet. Then her thumb flicked the ignition switch.

An Arkanic sky-cycle?!? It had been beyond her teenaged capacity to preserve even a semblance of calm when her father had touched down in the backyard the first time with it. It had hummed instead of roared, as if floating made it happy. Just like it hummed now, even though it had sat alone in a dirty shed for years, it was ready to fly, like it had been waiting for her. True Precursor technology did not fade, did not break, did not diminish or grow dull. The sky-cycle was powered by an actual aerolith and with careful use and maintenance, the machine would fly for years. Her father had taught her how to operate it with calm, thorough care and now it felt only right to be sitting on the back of this ancient machine on the trail of a mystery that stretched back to when the device had been born. Xenon looked over her shoulder, a final question in her eyes. Mercury had already found goggles from the saddlebags. She blinked once through the smoked glass, then passed another pair to her sister without a word. Xenon pulled them onto her forehead snugly and eased the throttle and let Tobio out into the night.

The Precursor’s machine hummed as quiet as a drifting cloud down the length of the house, both goblins kept an eye on each window, expecting to see the razor silhouette of their mother’s anger. Xenon held her breath and felt Mercury’s fingers dig into her sides. She kept Tobio at his slowest speed until her mother’s house was a diminishing shadow. Then she hammered the throttle and made the midnight blue wonder leap into the sky.

Mercury whooped with delight, pounding on Xenon’s back with her sharp fists. Their part of the city was mostly dark, even with the roaming philosophers -- but other parts shone with lantern-glass warmth. The bright yellow of the theater district, the cool blue of the torches that burned around the Library, the piercing white light that tore into the night sky like a spear that came from the Glass Towers of Vo -- the night wind whipped past and Xenon felt free. Terrified and free and she strongly considered turning the sky-cycle right around and parking it back in the shed.

“Where are we going, Zee?” Mercury demanded.

Xenon folded up her fears and tucked them away in a pocket just over her heart, there to be easily found and consulted at need. “Like you and mother said. Someone smarter than me - or at least someone who knows more about the Precursor civilization.” And not the First Librarian - that old stick would bury this in committees, rhetoric, and old men’s science. If we were lucky the mystery would be solved some fifteen minutes before SHAME arrives. “We’re going to go talk to an old boyfriend.”

“What?!?” Mercury shouted in either glee or pure incomprehension from the wind whipping past.

Two goblins soared across the night sky on a machine older than the city below, leaving a trail of magenta energy behind them like a line of bright ink.