Made myself get up early on a Sunday and work on my revision of chapter 8. Completed the first of four new scenes that will appear in the middle of that chapter. After I’m done with those, then it’s on to minor revisions of the chapter’s beginning, then major revisions, including one more new scene, to its conclusion.
Yeah, it was hard to drag my ass out of bed this morning, and there’s something to be said for getting adequate rest. But I can’t be afraid of being tired. The image of the leisurely writer, composing at ease while sipping a cool drink, is a dangerous myth that I’ve too easily fallen for. If the only way to make this career work is to be good and tired, then fire up the coffee maker.
For a number of reasons I may (or not) explain at some point, I haven’t been blogging lately. I’m hoping that, with this new fiction project I’m announcing today, I’ll be posting here more often.
For NaNoWriMo 2018, I’ll be updating the eighth chapter of my fencing novel, Gray Metal Faces. Those updates will be made on a separate, private blog, and I’ll be posting updates on my progress here.
Been a while since I’ve committed to a project of this size, and with my other obligations (in other words, all the things that have kept me from blogging) I’m not sure how I’m going to pull this off. But today isn’t about worrying. It’s enough to state my intention, and let this announcement serve as inspiration to find a way to get this job done.
When is she coming?
“As soon as she arrives,” I tell the seashells.
Will we control her again?
“Don’t be silly — we cannot control anything,” I remind the sponges.
Then how can we be sure she’ll do as we wish?
“Do you look at her as she manicures us?” I ask the driftwood. “There is joy in her face.”
But what makes her work so hard on our behalf?
I sigh at their lack of understanding. “Because it’s in her nature.”
PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction contest that’s a whole mess of fun
Gabfrab writes an irregularly recurring series of first-person tales about a homeless hedonist in Austin Texas. His latest story is about a racoonish search for food that, shall we say, doesn’t come out right. The ending reminded me of my youthful days assembling models of rocket ships in my family’s basement; took me years to realize why working with rubber cement made me feel so content.