Just Writer Things

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What happens to books when we aren’t reading them?  Do the characters lives go on without us?  Does the hero slip away into the nearest tavern to soak away his responsibility in a foaming mug?  Does the damsel in distress decide to make the best of her situation until the cover opens once more?  Does the princess remain locked in the tower, or asleep, and does the little mermaid cast herself against the rocks in desperation?  Maybe everyone falls back into place like Buzz and Woody when the reader returns.  Or maybe, just maybe, the story shifts into a completely different direction from the last time anyone opened it.

Like A Surgeon

For those of you who have read The Truth About Alex, there is a few deleted scenes that never made the cut. The pace of the book was rather quick, and the scenes I mentioned would have dragged it down. They were short, to be sure, but unnecessary. Every published book, I’m willing to bet, has scenes removed from the final product. It’s a time when the author has to play surgeon, and although it can be a painful affair, it teaches you to have thick skin.  You want the story to be the best it can be for your readers, am I right?
49-old_school_surgeonIt’s hard to let go. Once you’ve written your entire book, lean back with a glass of wine and enjoy your magnificent accomplishment, the last thing on your mind is the cutting room floor. No, no, no. It’s perfect just the way it is. It’s your baby. Every scene has its place and purpose, and you may be the first person in the world who has written a perfect book! If that’s the case, you need to read my First Draft Blues for an awakening. Not to damper the mood, by all means celebrate! Just know the final product might not closely resemble what you’ve just written. Set it aside for a few months. Then, go back and read it. You may find that your perfect book isn’t so perfect, and there may be some much needed tweaking.

What about you? Have you ever had to slice away at a manuscript? How did it make you feel?

Winter Novella

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Inspiration can come in the most unexpected of places.  Today, it was music.  You know how sometimes, you might hear a song and it pulls a forgotten memory to you?  You savor the experience, and can perhaps be glad that the song happened to play at that time.  This is how it was with me, only instead of memory, an important story element emerged.
It was cold this morning.  The wind smelled like winter, or at least a lesser form of it.  Although I have completed my fall novella, The Runaway Train, I still have quite a bit of work to do.  The final edits on Monsoon Morning are turning out to be more than I had anticipated, and I’m afraid that it’s release might have to be pushed back.  It may be too early to tell, though.
In the meantime, I am working on the next novella.  It’s title is The Truth About Alex, and I suppose that it’s been in the planning stages for a little while.  The story begins at a construction site, inside a skeletal building overlooking the city.
Alright, well, I suppose that I should get to it.