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mmerriamAnd not just marketing the Sky-Tinted Waters anthology and my new novella, The Curious Case of the Jeweled Alicorn.
I took a trip to Atlanta recently for a conference of the professional organization that Beloved Spouse is an officer of. I tend to go along with her on these trips, just like she comes to all the conventions I attend. We support each other's careers pretty aggressively. Since I'm not part of her organization, I treat the days she is in conference, committee meetings, and panels as a writing retreat.
I ride the bus for hours every week, back and forth to the Day Job, and anyone who has ever ridden public transit more than a handful of times can verify that public transit is full of colorful, weird, wonderful people in all their messed-up, beautiful glory. By the time we got to Atlanta, I had this idea about two mages fighting a low-keyed magical duel every morning on the 94 Express bus between Minneapolis and St. Paul, and the unfortunate third-party who gets involved.
By the time we got settled into the hotel, I could see the entire shape of the story and even went so far as to (gasp!) write an outline. This made me happy, except I had several scenes sorted out except the opening, so I had no idea how to actually start the story! Deciding not actually knowing how to start was no good reason to not get things rolling, I kind of flung myself at the story, putting words down and not worrying about if they sucked or not. It felt great (though reading back over the beginning, I think it needs to start in medias res). I wrote a couple thousand of words that first day, the prose coming fast and easy, if perhaps a bit clunky and ugly. No worries though, second drafts and rewrites are for clean-up. I loved it so.
But…
There's always the morning after. When I opened the document the next day, I was nervous and fearful. Oh shiny new story! In the sharp light of morning, I feared you would hustle me out the door with a promise to call sometime soon, but instead you showed up with fresh coffee and a warm smile.
Once we returned from Atlanta things slowed down, not because the story had lost the shiny, but because of my own responsibilities (day job, conventions) and because I caught a cold that made writing something akin to pushing my brain through jello. I started to find the flow harder to maintain, but I knew if I just kept pushing forward, things would be fine. This was a rough patch, nothing more.
This week, I was able to get back to it. It's up over 14,000 words and counting. I'm guessing it will hit between 20- 25K before it's all said and done. Novella seems to be my natural storytelling length. Which is weird, because I use to be Mr. Under 4K.
I wrote a nice, quick 800 words on Sunday morning. I've written past all the notes and outlining I had created and am now wondering through uncharted territory. I'm at the end of a scene, so I should probably stop and think about where we are heading before I write myself into a corner.
Originally posted at michaelmerriam.net. You can comment here or there.
I took a trip to Atlanta recently for a conference of the professional organization that Beloved Spouse is an officer of. I tend to go along with her on these trips, just like she comes to all the conventions I attend. We support each other's careers pretty aggressively. Since I'm not part of her organization, I treat the days she is in conference, committee meetings, and panels as a writing retreat.
I ride the bus for hours every week, back and forth to the Day Job, and anyone who has ever ridden public transit more than a handful of times can verify that public transit is full of colorful, weird, wonderful people in all their messed-up, beautiful glory. By the time we got to Atlanta, I had this idea about two mages fighting a low-keyed magical duel every morning on the 94 Express bus between Minneapolis and St. Paul, and the unfortunate third-party who gets involved.
By the time we got settled into the hotel, I could see the entire shape of the story and even went so far as to (gasp!) write an outline. This made me happy, except I had several scenes sorted out except the opening, so I had no idea how to actually start the story! Deciding not actually knowing how to start was no good reason to not get things rolling, I kind of flung myself at the story, putting words down and not worrying about if they sucked or not. It felt great (though reading back over the beginning, I think it needs to start in medias res). I wrote a couple thousand of words that first day, the prose coming fast and easy, if perhaps a bit clunky and ugly. No worries though, second drafts and rewrites are for clean-up. I loved it so.
But…
There's always the morning after. When I opened the document the next day, I was nervous and fearful. Oh shiny new story! In the sharp light of morning, I feared you would hustle me out the door with a promise to call sometime soon, but instead you showed up with fresh coffee and a warm smile.
Once we returned from Atlanta things slowed down, not because the story had lost the shiny, but because of my own responsibilities (day job, conventions) and because I caught a cold that made writing something akin to pushing my brain through jello. I started to find the flow harder to maintain, but I knew if I just kept pushing forward, things would be fine. This was a rough patch, nothing more.
This week, I was able to get back to it. It's up over 14,000 words and counting. I'm guessing it will hit between 20- 25K before it's all said and done. Novella seems to be my natural storytelling length. Which is weird, because I use to be Mr. Under 4K.
I wrote a nice, quick 800 words on Sunday morning. I've written past all the notes and outlining I had created and am now wondering through uncharted territory. I'm at the end of a scene, so I should probably stop and think about where we are heading before I write myself into a corner.
Originally posted at michaelmerriam.net. You can comment here or there.
