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Draft One, Deeper Into the Murk
So, no longer Draft Zero, eh, Indigo & Ink? This is where things get interesting. I’m not one of those people who can let a book draft sit for terribly long. Okay, wait, no. That’s a lie. I can let it sit plenty after I’ve edited the crap out of it, but otherwise it pokes at my consciousness for days until I fix what needs fixing. We can’t always be as disciplined as Stephen King, and if we all wrote the same the world would be boring (or… something?). When I finished Indigo & Ink, I was in the zone, so I decided to keep going. The draft, at one…
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Beach. Book. Bed.
Just returned today from nearly a week on the North Carolina coast. There was not much writing time to be had, but plenty of time to think of writing. I think I’ve worked out the last three or four chapters sufficiently. It’s a melancholy end for a melancholy book, though there’s more humor in it than anything I’ve written to date (which is terribly important given the subject matter, I say). Being at the beach was perfect for the plotting, what with the sea air and the sunsets and all. Last night I stood on the porch and watched a huge thunderstorm over the Atlantic ocean–the largest lightning bolts I’ve…
