Tag Archives: Agata

Blogging, Book Reviews, Writing

Halvesies

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Today is a day of halves:

  • I’m halfway through my final draft of the ‘Agata’ novella, and I think I might have made it through the hardest part. Even if I haven’t, well, I’m halfway. It’s taking longer than my (originally quite naïve) schedule said it would take, but I’m moving forward and coming ever closer to finishing it.
  • I’m halfway through the story for Thursday, though in this case, I know I’m through the hardest part. The story’s finished; I’m just adding flair to it, now.
  • The storm that’s been pummeling the southeast is about halfway finished. Or at least it is according to Accuweather. No serious flooding where I live, though the cat keeps reminding me that she never signed up for this thunder crap.
  • And I’m halfway through Infinite Jest. I’ve read a lot of meta-novels (a good chunk of Pynchon, Ulysses, Remembrance of Things past (it might not be the most accurate translation of the title, but it’s the most poetic English version, I think), and the ever-awesome Tristram Shandy, which the movie version described as “a post-modern classic before there was a modernism to be post about.” Oh, and House of Leaves. This is, so far, my favourite of them, and it keeps getting better. Yes, it’s a slog and a third in spots (Tennis, anyone?) but I’m starting to see how everything is coming together, and if DFW does pull off the ending the way I think he might, it will be worth it. It’s definitely not a book for everyone, and no, I don’t subtly mean ‘A lot of people can’t handle the way the book’s written because they’re just not advanced enough.’ There is that matter of taste, and in that, I really do mean that it’s not for everyone. As far as meta-novels or post-modern novels go, it’s no Finnegans Wake, though as much as I like James Joyce, I’m happy about that. But it does have quite a few quirks. For example, I’m actually right around page 490 of 1080… but if you count the fifty-odd pages of footnotes (some lasting 18 pages of 8 point type, some with footnotes of their own) I’ve definitely made it halfway. The references are sometimes obscure, and while there is a good Wiki to help you keep everything straight (such as the corporate sponsored names of years) there were some days when I would read 30 or 40 pages in an hour or so, and some when I was happy to have made it through 5. Still, the story’s entertaining, the characters are definitely one of a kind, and I don’t think the book could be written in any other way. In between, of course, I’ve also read a couple of Moorcock books (taking a break for the nonce), two YA books, and most of a collection of Flannery O’Connor stories. But I’m getting there.

So that’s where I am today. Well, that, and digging into the guts of this website. I really don’t like the way it looks, and now that I have a little more content on it, I feel it’s time to fix that. Suggestions are demanded requested at gunpoint politely entertained.

Editing, Slack Off Saturday

Writing is ReReReReReReWriting: An Agony

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I have a long weekend, so I’ve taken it upon myself to rewrite a novella I wrote last October. That was the weekend some of you remember when I decided I was going to write a 100 page novella in 100 hours. (That’s 100 hours straight, counting time for note-taking, eating, walking the dog, pulling out my hair, shoving it back in the follicles because I really can’t afford to lose more, coping with the sudden ability to smell colours, and all of the other wonderful things that accompany the task of writing 25,000 words in a four-day weekend. Yes, of course I’m thinking of doing this again. Why do you ask?) It’s been hanging around since then, mocking me with its two well-rounded characters and a bunch of paper dolls, an awesome and explosive beginning, a weak and arbitrary ending, taunting me with the fact that I know how to fix it, now, and could actually fix it, if I, you know, sat down to write the bloody thing. So, this weekend, I decided I was going to buckle down and get as close to a final draft as I could on this damn thing so I could either submit it for publication or do something to free it into the wide, wide world, because it sure needs to get out of my head.

Alright, in other words I just spent ten minutes taking a break from writing so I could write about how hard writing is. Yes, I’m definitely in the colour-smelling stage of my word-induced insanity. In fact, I’m considering naming them. This shirt I’m wearing is a lovely shade of Bob, which smells like anxiety and imagination.

On the bright side, I have nearly three of ten chapters written and rewritten. I had to go back and rewrite a few sections, but I feel like this story young Ms Agata (a teenage girl on a wagon train through a rural medieval country, along with her Uncle, her foster cousin, and a few friends) is finally coming together. Because that’s what rewriting is. My Muse runs up from her basement study with a handful of papers and says, ‘CJ! You HAVE to listen to this!!!’ And I do, writing down everything she says for posterity. But she’s a storyteller, not a writer. And much like how your Mom edits your Dad’s stories (or vice-versa) so people who weren’t there can actually understand them, I have to go through and write out a new version of things, a translation, if you will, for those of you who don’t live in my head. And if I can tell this story in such a way that it resonates with something you yourself think about, I’ve done my job.

See? I came here to talk about how writing sucks, and I convinced myself otherwise. Yay editorializing.

Y’all have an awesome weekend. Wish me luck. And yes, there will be a new story on Thursday.

52 Story Project, Fiction, Writing

The 72 Hour Novel: Day One

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Well, by 14 or 15.00 today I had given up, freaked out, gone to take a nap with a horrible headache, and convinced myself that all was lost. Then I got up from the nap, made black-bean chilli since I realised I hadn’t eaten in well over a day (probably the source of my headache), and went from feeling like a failure at 5000 agonizing words to hitting 7K and saying “That’s enough.” Then I pushed ahead to hit 8K/ 30 pages in less than 24 hours. So even if I don’t hit my goal of writing a short novel (23-25K/ 80-100 pages) in three days, I think I figured out how I’ll be able to do it the next time I try. (And honestly, I’m worried that even if I do hit my word/ page goal by Monday Midnight, I’ll not be done with the story. One of my slippery good/ villain characters is more deep than I thought, and my main character is really having a lot of fun telling me her story. So, I’ll check in tomorrow night, and I’ll still be posting on Twitter with the #72hournovel hashtag.

Random observances:

Writing is physically draining enough when you don’t dash around the dining room, your patio, and your kitchen re-enacting an epic fight from your Sword and Sorcery novel. Today, I also learned that it’s a good thing I don’t write erotica.

When you try to force a character into a box she doesn’t want to fit into, she will rebel. Much like fitting a person into a category she doesn’t want to fit into. The difference is:  I can erase the character. I think that actually makes it harder to deal with.

Magic in most fantasy novels is glowing, mystical, and beneficent, or dark, chilling, and malignant. It has crisp edges and direct lines of attack. When a man is hit with a spell, he dies or is turned into a toad or whatever curse is laid upon him. But I’m a veteran. I’ve seen Fireballs, and Magic Missiles, and Called Lightning. I’ve seen especially what they leave behind. There are no crisp lines and magical effects in combat.