Mike Mulligan's Steamshovel and The Little Engine That Could

When I was a kid, watching Captain Kangaroo in my cracked footie pajamas, and eating all the butter and sugar out of my oatmeal first, the two stories mentioned in this post's title were the two I could listen to the Captain read over and over again.

Who knows? Maybe even then I had an inkling that my contract for this lifetime was Sisyphus Redux. Write, lose the draft. Re-write, lose the draft. Well, you get the picture. No? Then how about... Eat healthy, get the flu. Recover from flu, daughter with URI comes to visit. Daughter recovers, I get her bug...

Anyway, I have finished the final re-writes of the first 3 chapters which are the ones actually judged. I am about halfway, maybe a little more, through re-revising the remaining chapters. My page count is now spot on. I have tomorrow off which should be enough time to finish up (at least for the purposes of this contest -- I will polish the entire book over the first half of December as planned).


I have until around noon on Thursday to get this to FedEx and pay a fortune for guaranteed next-day delivery. Hmmmm... is it possible?


I think I can, I think I can...

Major Revisions, and the Ultimate Re-write

Today, in the midst of that final push for the ending that would signify the end of the drafting process and the beginning of final revisions of my WIP, I ran head-first into one of those life moments that you never see coming.

Caught at a point in the book where I needed to refer back to an earlier chapter to verify several points, I decided to break my "don't re-read the whole thing until you finish the draft" rule I put in place several weeks ago. Moving from the very much revised first three chapters into the fourth, I suddenly felt like I was reading someone else's book. Where was Ellen, Brett's grown-up sister? The attorney who filed for custody without his consent? Where was all my back-story about his family and their dislike of Ginny? The perfectly revised courtroom scene?

Gone.

Every last word of it.

I have been moving back and forth between two versions of the manuscript as I made revisions and added new material. Apparently, during one of those cut and paste sessions, I pasted old material over new, losing the revisions completely. And the paper copy I kept for backup and manual revisions? Just switched out for a new edition (or so I thought) and the old paper recycled.

Gone.

So this will not be my year to enter the Golden Heart after all. So it goes. My first reaction was to puke. I felt like I'd been sucker-punched in the gut. But other than that initial reaction, I have been remarkably and detachedly calm about the whole thing. I have already revamped my plan to align with a new deadline of December 15 when the Golden Pen winners are announced and hopefully I will have an editor asking for my complete manuscript. If I don't keep it moving, don't keep setting new goals when disappointment dumps on my parade, I will never see this through to the end I desire.

I wrote it once, I can write it again. I'll just think of it as yet another revision.

And the reason for my uncharacteristic calm in the face of apparent chaos? Ah, that's where the rest of the title comes from -- the Ultimate Re-write, in this case, is death, which tends to trivialize life's more minor revisions.

This morning, in the middle of catching up with my on-line writing buds, we received an e-mailed message from Pamela Cleaver's son that she had died unexpectedly and more details would be coming out in the London Times later today or tomorrow. Talk about a sucker-punch.

I know there are those who don't fully understand the strength of electronic connections made between souls who never meet face-to-face, but Pam was one of us -- a cheerful, giving senior Cherry with a sweet disposition and a wicked wisdom she didn't hesitate to share with the rest of us younguns. Every time I logged onto the NoMo database to enter my word counts, there was Pam's name -- reminding me that she was one of those people always ready to lend a hand In reality, she was a chat moniker and a website to me, but she was also a cyber-friend and dance partner in this little tarentella world of romance writers, and I will miss her very much.

Here's just one reason why...


"Hey, all you youngsters of 50 and 60, I'm here to tell you
that in your seventies life, love and romance don't stop -
at least they haven't stopped yet for me."

Pam - Cherry Gran

My Feet Hurt, My Turkey's Tough, and I Ain't Done Writin'

Actually, the turkey wasn't so bad after all -- a little chewy (whatta ya want for a free bird?), but very juicy and tasty. And, no, it's not the official eat-yourself-sick day, but it's the Friday after and we just ate our second culinary salute to American over-indulgence. With gravy. And the musical theme from The Waltons playing in the background. No, really. Kids, grown kids... what can I say?

My feet do hurt -- too much standing on the world's most uncomfortable floor while cooking too much food. But now I have them propped up and they will get better and we have enough food to last through the weekend while I finish this book (refer to blog title to refresh your memory). In fact, with the amount of work I have to do on the book, it will probably be fanny fatigue that gets me in the end (HAHAHAAA - in the end, get it?)

And I will finish. Because now I'm pissed and anger is my best motivator. Angry at what? I'm glad you asked that question: angry because while ripping up cornbread to make dressing this morning, the entire, correct story arc for this book suddenly came to me -- WAY too late. No, I am not about to start over with a book that only has a 30-day shelf life anyway. But it does make me want to get it done and out of here immediately. Good thing since the deadline is already looming.

However, I am seriously considering not taking a break, but diving right into the December NoMo extension with the rest of the group who didn't pull it off in November. I can start by writing a new synopsis for the next book -- words are words, after all, and the count tallies them anyway. There is something very inspiring about being part of a group of people who are trying to do the same thing you are, and the encouragement and encouraging are most welcome on the more difficult days.

Like now, when I have to get up from this comfy couch where the late afternoon sun is massaging my shoulders, and head back into the kitchen to rip the rest of the turkey from its bones. Yum.

Then I get back to writing.


Followed by pie...

Down to the Wire

Okay. So, if there is any hope of getting all the revisions done in time for Tuesday's mailing, I have to finish the complete draft today! By midnight. So I can get some sleep and be ready to start re-writing and cleaning up the strange inconsistencies on Friday -- Thursday being a day of cooking, eating, and cleaning (also known as emptying the overloaded brain).


I am into the next to last chapter and it is pretty straight forward, but very legal which is slowing me down. The last chapter should be a breeze since it has been written in my head for a year and a half. I am forcing myself to actually write it last, like savoring your dessert after a LOOONNNNGGGG, heavy meal. Burp.

The other night at work, I was eating in the sloproom -- er, breakroom, when I overheard another employee telling someone he had taken off 10 days just to write. He spoke of writing, sleeping, eating at whatever times suited him. Then he said he wished some publisher would love his book, because he wanted to live that way all the time. I know what he means...


Send me kudos, wish me luck, pray to your assorted gods, but do whatever you know how to do to help me over this hurdle. Your little comments mean more than you know.

Broken Toes and Other Woes

Whine, whine, whine.

Yes, I broke my toe. I was down in the basement looking for something. I no longer have any memory of what I was looking for, but it doesn't matter anyway. All the weird, unconnected things I find myself doing these days only have one common denominator -- they keep me from writing.

But, that's my pattern. I am proud of the fact that it is altering somewhat and that I am getting a bit more in the discipline groove these days. In fact, I can see real possibilities for this "set goals and sit butt" routine in my future. However, in my present, I am still slugging my way through a lifetime habit of slow starts, fast finishes. I suppose the end result is the same, but as the years go by, the strain on my body increases and the thrill of crisis adrenalin decreases. I'll keep working on that.


In the meantime, counting today, I have 10 (YIKES!!) days to finish draft, revise entire book, and update synopsis AGAIN to coordinate with all the changes my characters have been making to my story. They stole my story. Heh heh heh -- my apologies for lifting that line from Stephen King and Secret Window; it comes in handy for a multitude of sins.

Ten days. And I still have to work the day-job on 3 of them. Last day to ship manuscript is Tuesday, November 29. My heart is beating faster already. I can do this. I may not survive it, but I can do it. Oh hell, of course, I'll survive it. Why am I so sure?

Because there is a collaboration in my future... as well as a week long sugar high.

Life is good.

Don't Let the Turkeys Get You Down

I have always loved Thanksgiving - waking up to the smell of all that good food cooking, watching the parades on TV (yes, I still do that), lots of people doing lots of eating. Ahhhh...

(Insert theme music from The Waltons)

And this year I am so torn between wanting to cook my ass off for appreciative friends and family and wanting to finish this damn book. But I am not getting any younger, the universe seems to have lined up the writing vibes, and there is an actual deadline looming. If I stay on schedule and get the draft finished by the day before T-day, then the editing and rewrites should be finished in plenty of time for Tuesday's mailing.

Sigh.

Hopefully there will be other turkey days and I will not have lost all my friends to this hermiting. If I have, I know a good book I can curl up with while munching my turkey, dressing, and cranberry sauce sandwich.

Heh heh heh

Two days off work and the flu is abating. Woohoo. The NoMo competition has me on somewhat of a roll - keep your fingers and toes crossed and send good writing energy so I can really whip it out before the day job reels me in again on Thursday. My goal is at least 10,000 words in two days.


Good Lord willing and the Oreos go stale (yum!), I'll make it with ease.

Wink, Wink, Nudge, Nudge

Today I wrote the main sex scene for my book. I have been avoiding it for days, writing around it, leaving a prominent INSERT SEX SCENE HERE message for myself on a half-blank page.

You probably think I was just too embarrassed, right? Not quite sure how to put it all down on paper? WRONG. If I could make a living at it, I would probably write erotica all the time. Like maybe for that new Harlequin/Silhouette line called Spice that will be coming (!) out in trade paperback next year as a monthly single-title release retailing for $12.95.


I am not a proponent of that so-called erotica that is really just insert tab A into slot B pornography. What I'm talking about is that full-blown (!), wrapped in ALL the senses, metaphorically spasmodic sex on paper that makes you have to turn the ceiling fan to high. The kind of literary sex that drops its phrases into your mind years, even decades later. (Thank you Anais Nin - the train scene is with me always.) So that's what I wrote, toned down for Harlequin's regular romances, of course.

And I let two people read the scene. And did they gush over the rhythmic pacing, the tactile lushness, the melodic prose? No. Both of them had issues with my single use of the word "penis." They seemed much more comfortable with some of the ridiculous euphemisms from days gone by.

(To refresh your memory or increase your archaic vocabulary, click here, but be prepared for overkill).

What is up with that? It IS a penis. That's its real name. GET OVER IT. I write gorgeous, erotic prose, filled with emotion, and people trip over penis? (My apologies if that last phrase brought a visual to mind that has you spewing Oreos through your nose.)

So I wrote the sex scene and I am happy with it and now I can get on with the cut and dried detective work of the next few chapters. Yawn. But the writing will probably go much faster and I can definitely turn off the ceiling fan for this one.

Sigh.

One Flu Over the Cuckoo's Chest

Okay. Instead of a blissful orgy of catch-up writing, I got the flu. I am not a happy camper. Do you know how hard it is to even see a computer screen through eye snot? And I have no argument with the proposition that breathing is a necessity when it comes to staying conscious enough for writing.

Then again, the universe did give me two great affirmations at work on Sunday, so do I have any other choice but to keep on keeping on? Gathered together all the judges' comments from the three pre-Golden Heart contests I entered and tried to get a feel for what they had in common. Re-wrote my synopsis (yes, AGAIN) and feel pretty good about it. There were a few plot points that needed tweaking and/or eliminating and now the story arc is much improved -- which theoretically should lead to smoother, faster writing.

Let's go find out...

Where Have I Been? Where Am I Going?

Pulled up the blog to see how long it had been since I wrote anything, thinking it might be a few days -- good grief! What happened?

Well, there were the 2 turned into 4 days of purging the office and cleaning house for company. The days when we had company. The day I took off work and writing to play tourist with company. The days of recuperating from company. Oh yeah, that's where time went...

So anyway, the Novel in a Month process started on November 1, a day on which I wrote nothing (recuperating from company). The next two days were pretty pitiful, although I did get a lot of editing done. However, today was one of those glorious days when the story flowed and I was laughing and crying over my own work. Gotta love those precious moments of synchronicity.

Since the other CherryNoMo members had pretty much talked me out of trying to start a new work in progress while finishing and revising my current WIP, I am just using the NoMo structure to try and build a month of discipline into my writing schedule and play around with what will work best for me for the long haul. So I am participating in a 2-day challenge this weekend to write at least 500 words per day and, if possible, write enough more to catch up with the minimum daily words necessary to finish a 50,000 word epistle in only 30 days.

As we are now 5 days into the process and I should be at the 8,334 word mark, I don't see that happening. But I hope I can chug out enough words to get this WIP finished and ready for final revision for the Golden Heart, which has to be in their hands by December 2.

HAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! I see Oreos and Coke on the horizon...

Cheerleaders! I need cheerleaders!