Finishing a novel first draft feels a little like running a marathon only to fall off a cliff at the end of it. You’re rather at loose ends, flailing around. Sometimes there’s even a thud at the end of the fall which is, as others have noted for the male writers, probably as close to post-partum depression as we’ll ever experience. All by way of saying that the first draft of The War God’s Son is complete. I finished it last week with one 8000 word session and a late night of small continuity tweaks that I wanted to make while they were fresh in my mind. I was pretty much spot on as to what the length would be, right at 92000 words. As I said, I don’t do doorstops, but the publisher I have in mind is happy with the length. I tend to put in as much as I take out on subsequent drafts, so the final length might not be that different. Continue reading
Author Archives: ogresan
Dog Days
This is more of a check-in than an actual proper blog post. What we used to call a “drive-by posting.” It’s September, so naturally we’re still in the grip of what should be properly called August+. The heat won’t really break until maybe mid-September…if we’re lucky. So far the heat has taken the willow, maple, and one of the blueberry bushes we planted this spring. We won’t know the full extent of the damage until next spring, but we’ll either replant or face the fact that whatever comes up of its own accord is probably the only plant worth bothering about. For instance, the Yoshino cherry I planted a couple years ago dropped dead within three weeks.. It’s now been replaced by a popcorn tree that wanted the spot. I’ll see if it does any better.
The War God’s Son is in the home stretch. The draft passed the 80k mark last week and it might—might—have 10k to go. Likely it’ll grow a little in the rewrite, since I’m one of those who tend to embellish as much or more than I cut, but if it turns out over 90k words I’ll be surprised. Like any other project, ideally it turns out as long as it has to be and no longer. And for those (both of you) who have been wondering about the sequel to Black Kath’s Daughter, it’s next on the agenda, but I have to finish this one first.
I couldn’t sign off without mentioning the passing of Fred Pohl. He was one of the last of the old guard SF writers. “There were giants in the earth in those days.” I’m old enough to remember the passing of several of them: Heinlein, Asimov, Leiber, Anderson, Clarke, and that’s not even counting the ones who went before their time, like Tom Reamy. It’s rather like watching history passing before your eyes. The field has been undergoing something like a sea-change in the last several years, and the loss of Pohl only emphasizes it. Change happens. That’s all.
Road Trip
I’m not sure what possessed me, seriously. We occasionally take road trips, and maybe I wanted to test my limits. When I was younger I could drive 8-10 hours (with a few breaks) at a stretch, and a recent road trip to Chattanooga surprised me by revealing how easily drivable it was. So when I was asked to visit a remote site for a week to aid in a printer migration (vast herds of HPs and Epsons making their way across the tundra? Yeah, went there) rather than flying like a sensible person, I decided to drive. 983 miles. Probably not a good idea. Took two days, and 6-8 hours on the road is probably my limit these days. So I drove from MS to Lake Eerie in 2 days. Done it once. Probably don’t need to do it again. Continue reading
Spectacle, It Ain’t
It occurs to me—not for the first time, nor with me first—that a writer at work, head down on a project, whatever it is, has to be just about the dullest creature on the planet. Yeah all of us, at once. The single dullest creature. It’s probably some sort of hive-mind effect going on, except for the fact that they’re no communal thought. Separately but altogether making up one really dull creature. Continue reading
Today is the Tomorrow We Worried About Yesterday
Ninth chapter almost done, after a week’s delay while my wife and I went on a long-delayed and much deserved vacation. Ahem. Where was I? Oh, right. Chapter 9, and the realization that, not only is there a Chapter 9, but there will be at least as many more before the story is told. I’m not just talking about the number of words, though it is a subject of concern to me. I’m thinking more about scope and emphasis, and to what extent they truly define what a work of fiction is. Continue reading