Revelations I

So Paige read it handidly in one sitting (which isn't surprising, since she swallows 300 page novels whole and then wipes her palate clean with a volume of poetry). Some of things we agreed are - it's too short, some of the scenes carry more weight w/ prose or narrative than others (comparing Dean v James against Dean v Joy for instance). Some of the more absurdist portions, like Bull's side business, are perhaps a bit to absurdist. Aside from being short, it's also ... light. Shallow.

But it did get a chuckle from her, so I guess parts of the humor work.

I'm going to let this get cold for me, because right now I don't think I can edit it objectively. I think I want to add more of the world Dean left behind (Chummy, Illumni, etc), more color motifs, slower prose in scenes, but right now I just want to let the smoke settle. I'll probably head back to game modding for a while.

The Task Ahead

Well, it took me half a night just to make the tabs and spacing not suck. I can't get past the first couple paragraphs without want to beat some sentences with a club. This is aside from the fact that even though Greenscape feels so big, it's really pretty darn tiny.

My next step is to rewrite the tangents and add them back in. Then I want to examine where else the story can splinter for more content. This is going to be a long road.

The phone rang again

Mission accomplished. By adding in some more scenes with Sissy's photography quirks and then some final epilogues involving non-Dean material, Greenscape currently 50,500 words and some change. Tiny by novel standards, weighty by trying to get a lot of stuff done in a month.

I have a full version with better tabbing under the novel folder for people who want to read it.

I'm going to have a beer now.

Shapes of white blur

Dean was dreaming of darkness. He was dreaming he was on the driving range he had just left with Sissy. It was night and he was at the far end of the green, the cheap houses looming behind him. Shapes of white blur would speed past him, but he didn't move.

OK, story is finished. Nano still requires 2,200 more words. I kinda new this would happen as I had more collapsing action than falling action. 2200 is pretty manageable though, especially since I have two or three scenes I'd like to add in.

Odd Taste

"Sissy told me she's a lesbian," Dean accused.

"Well I don't think that's true," Mother said emphatically, "She simply has an odd taste in clothes."

"Gee, momma, thanks," Sissy grinned.

"And she's claustrophobic," Dean continued.


Happy Thanksgiving from the Forresters.

Blue Teddy Bear?

Blue Teddy Bear? How about the mother who may have just found out you've been selling drugs again? Daisies? And you were supposed to see yesterday but are now running about twenty four hours late? Chocolates? Can she eat chocolates right now? Sissy hadn't been terribly specific about what tubes were going where, and Dean didn't really want to imagine the possibilities. What goes with daisies? Do you get your mom roses? Did they have lilies?

43794 words. Much of the leap is thanks to forcing myself back into Dean's head and bring out some prose. These last few scenes have actually felt more like the kind of thing I intended to write than probably 90% of the rest. If I can keep that up, the 50k shouldn't be a problem. Better, it gives me something to go back and critique against with the empty dialogue that fills way too much out right now.

I'm also pretty happy with how the scene with James turned out, even though I really had no idea walking into what would really happen. I think the scenes with Momma Forrester will pad out most of the end, and the prologue is about half a chapter on it's own. Well, maybe. We'll see. Did I mention the prologue comes last?

Very Popular Thing

"It's a very popular thing, yes," She replied, "Wanna cup?"

"What are you doing?"

"Making coffee."

"For your husband to beat me with?"


Whew. 40,078. With some filler in later Chapters, Greenscape enters the last 20% stretch. 10,000 words to go in eight days. One last chapter. Problem is, Thanksgiving. I completely lose Thursday, probably Wed. night and tomorrow night isn't looking so hot either. I more or less know the final scenes of the story and I think there is at least 10,000 left in there if I give myselft time to write them out. Still, if I'm at 45k by the holiday, I'll feel really lucky. This weekend, I imagine, is going to be the make it/break it time.

And I gotta say - to get this tonight I went back and started to look for soft spots. Editing this thing? That's going to take ten times longer than this initial spurt. Scary.

Semantic War

"Yeah, I mean, you've vanished to this mythical green to the north, where apparently you're so happy with pulling around someone else's golf clubs that you've managed to forget everyone you knew."

"I wouldn't say forget."

"I don't think you'll win a semantic war here, buddy."


OK, so 37,221 as of today. That puts it back on track after the predictably unproductive weekend. The corner is laid out for the story to go a little Harlequin for the next couple thousand words so I doubt I'll be writing it during my lunch hour. My pre-Thanksgiving prediction is that the story will be nearly done by the time a cooked bird is on the table, but I'll be about 5,000 words shy. That's just kinda how things are feeling right now. That isn't too bad though, because there are pages and pages of dialogue like the above that is completely devoid of blocking or prose related description, and I as found out the Emma addition to the Joy/Dean conversation, it can really build out the scene a little more. So I think this last stretch is going to be hard, but I think it's going to happen.

If I can get to the next morning with more than 40,000 words I'll probably be OK. Otherwise, it's Filler City.

Invisible Short Person

More laughter from seemingly nowhere and time went skittering off again. Bull's hands were moving in wide arcs with extreme speed, but Dean couldn't quite remember him saying anything until, "So I go in for the pizza while Dean here is standing outside."

"With the sign," said an invisible short person.


OK, so the Big Friday Push ended at 35,410 - right about where I needed it, a little shy of where I wanted it to be, but a good night all the same. Then I ended up playing a lot of San Andreas and drinky way too much whiskey. I still have the faint cologne of Jameson and a headache as I type this. My friend Seth is coming down (or over, as he insists, though I tell them that anything in the Great Lakes vicinity is the Great White North and I just don't care), and I might try to sneak in some words before he gets here.

Did I just type drinky? I need a nap.