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Category: SoS

old friends, new tales

Trying something new with an old cast. ¬†I know it’s a cliche to say but — sometimes you just have to ignore what everyone’s been telling you and write what you want.

So that’s what I’m doing, and that’ll be 850 words today.

Finding the time to do this requires working around an 18 month old and a workweek that features a 2 hour commute and at least 8.5 hours of work. ¬†Challenging, but I’m trying.


the postcard dilemma

So, I haven’t gotten my postcard back yet. And it’ll be a month on Monday.

Is this too long, or not long enough? I have no fucking clue. It eats me up to think that the manuscript got lost en route to New York. It eats me up to think that I might have screwed up with addressing or stamping my stuff.

Anyway, next Friday I’m going to send a letter with SASE. And hope I don’t piss off the submissions gods with my obsessive fretting. And hope it gets there. And hope something weird didn’t happen to the monstrosity. Like improper postage or whatever.

Grrr. Arrrr.

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bye-bye baby

The clouds were torn bits of wool spread wide by the long, thin fingers of the sun. Flurries of snow gusted over the landscape, sometimes a light dusting, sometimes a fierce howl, then back to gentle spots of chilly white dancing on the breeze.

Amidst this odd weather — sun and snow, fierce and gentle — I put my secondborn book in a box, sealed her up, and placed her in the rough hands of a government employee. Today, she begins a four-day journey east, to a weary city by the sea.

Should she return to me, tattered and tired, covered in red or nothing at all, I will pick her up, put her in my lap, and tell her it’s all right — we learned a lot from this. We’ll take what we got from it and build something new. We’ll send her forth again, but in the meantime — life goes on.

But should she leave me a message on my voice mail saying someone loved her just as much as I do, me and my book are going to celebrate. Preferably with fondue. And a full body massage. And a copy of the new Cake album.

Time will tell. I just hope I’m ready for what it has to say when it gets around to the telling.

I’m alternating between wanting to scream, wanting to throw up, and wanting to cry. I haven’t done this in nearly a decade. Last time I did, I was proud and young, and assumed the world would bow down before my majesty.

Now I’m older, and I like to think I know better. I remember all the nights I came home after curfew to find my mother awake and waiting for me. She would call out softly to me, make sure I was all right, and then slip back to bed, silent as a mouse.

My own waiting now begins.

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take to the sky

All printed. Final page count with double spacing — 750 pages.

It’s printed. I’m done for the night. My nerves are shot and I’m starved. Time to eat, relax, and do some knitting.

It’ll go out tomorrow at lunch. Any of you who love me and want me to succeed, send some prayers sometime next week toward the publishing houses in New York.

    this house is like russia

    with eyes cold and grey

    you got me moving in a circle

    i dyed my hair red today

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Please allow me a moment of silence as I realize I have just sent out the monstrosity no one but me has seen to its first readers.


Okay. I’m done.

…and I still don’t have a name for the damn thing.

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ch. 33 – crap on a stick

Yeah, that was a better scene. I think the difficult stuff is over for now. Enh. Or not. Weekend is coming at least. Yay! Monkeys.

I had a ridiculously extravagant meal with Melissa, Matt, and Jeff. I shall be cursing it next week, I’m sure, but tonight it went down pretty damn swell.

Ramen and cup o’ noodles for me the rest of the month!

    I don

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ch. 32 – revisions

Last line for the night: “It appears we have much to discuss.”

So far I’m doing good on the condensing. Thirty-two is done in rough form. Thirty-three will be more cannabalizing, though I suspect I’ll completely rewrite one scene which was a pretty major reveal that I kind of glossed over. In this version, I’ve done better at alluding to it rather than just dropping it in the reader’s lap (a practice I detest).

Okay, go to bed, Steph.

To bed, Steph!

    To the living we owe respect,

    but to the dead we owe only the truth.


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ch. 32 – revisions

Some revising done, and stronger scenes hath emerged. Yea.

Translation: Minor revisions to 17 and 31, one major one to 16 and further writings into 32. Lest some of you despair that I’m playing WoW, I’ll have you know I didn’t tonight. The book is fighting with my Undead Warlock. The book is winning.

Yep. I can finish this over Thanksgiving and do edits the week after. Sure.

The goal is to slice off a few chapters, for those of you playing along at home. I also removed a whole subplot that didn’t do much for the story. Actually, I’ve effectively removed two as of tonight. You’re thrilled, I know.

    Never mind the poultry,


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ch. 32 – updated

Some updates to Chapter 32 on Sunday night. Otherwise, I’ve extended my break a little by playing some World of Warcraft. That, Knights of the Old Republic (Xbox), and City of Heroes are the only three games this year that I can honestly say have been outstanding enough to rip me away from writing. The beta ends soon, and after that I probably won’t play. Alas.

I’m going to do my best to finish the book over my coming up four day vacation. Wish me luck.

    always keeping in mind that I’m

    as square as they come, well that’s fine.

    I’ll spend all my money and time

    spinning wheels on an incline.

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ch. 31 – revised

Three new pages for chapter 31 written on lunch break. Going to Chicago tonight, weather permitting.

Mark, the answer is: “The light from the stars in the night sky above us….” Or something like that. And no, I still don’t speak Japanese.

No work until Sunday night, when I return from Chicago (bang-bang). Bye-bye.

    And life without Pain is a long endless chain

    Of errors repeated again and again

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