Not the best week to ask how things are going or what I’m doing….
Living the writer’s dream here: working on Release, but the cumulative word count of a 177 words since Sunday doesn’t say much for itself. Or maybe it does since this is an editing wordcount. Of course, serious editing has its drawbacks beyond a diminished wordcount.
The doubt monster has returned it all its fiery glory.
Not that I actually think Release is that bad. It may be a case of “Mommy Pride”, but I like the story I wrote. It just is the wrong story; I know that I know I need to change it, but I’m still having a serious problem killing my darling, even though I fully intend to resurrect it after the surgery.
So beyond the low wordcount, I’ve been reread, rearranging, deleting and generally trying to not cry as I rewrite history… on Acaria at least. And for the next few weeks, that’s pretty much all I intend to do for my ROW80 and general writing goals.
Happily being a sponsor and a mom have given me moments of distraction. I had a great time reading Julie Glover’s post on her Inner Grinch. She inspired the post coming this Sunday. And it was nice to see the return of some erstwhile ROWers to the Sunday check-in.
On the mom-front, I got to help the Boodle with his homework yesterday: writing out, in Spanish, instructions for a classmate to draw a picture from. Pretty awesome. I know I couldn’t have done that in 2nd grade in French (longer even, since we didn’t get a language until high school). And the worst art for him? Getting started… same as any writer.
I can’t vouch for the effects of translating the text from Scrivener to the blog page, but this excerpt was eleven lines in my editor. Simple maths… eleven for today’s date.
Again, this comes from Release. It’s happening a bit earlier in the book than last week’s excerpt, but we get to meet a somewhat familiar character here. The ‘he’ our narrator, Kieri is referring to is Alanii; though he’s a much older man these days.
Footsteps fell on the stairs.
I darted toward my room. Managing to reach the door, I glanced back…to see him looking down at me wryly. “You obey well, I see. No matter. Grab your night bags. I am bringing you home”
His voice held no anger or malice. He sounded sad more than anything which added no encouragement. I had no wish to go where such strange and terrible things were treated as routine.
“No? Why not? It would do you good, Kieri. Perhaps my wife would come here to stay, giving you a mother. You and the girls could be playmates.”
After the last few years, to be offered playmates struck wrong–the thought of girls was worse. I felt he was calling me a baby. Not that I didn’t feel like one, as I cringed, imagining his Nightwind playing mother for me. I covered my fear with bluster.
So there you go… Looks as if the dream is lost on our young Kieri already.
Cheers to K.L. Schwengel at My Random Muse! She hosts WIPpet Wednesdays (it is like herding cats, after all) for us. WIPeteers post pieces of a draft (Work In Progress) that somehow relate with the date at the group linky and bravely invite company, comments… even gentle (or not-so gentle) critiques