Tag Archives: The War God’s Son

Time Mis-Management

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Bkack Kath's Daughter-2I finished the second draft of The War God’s Son late Friday night. Sometimes projects need a third or more drafts before I dare show them to First Reader, but in this case I can’t think of anything else the book needs, so once I have it printed out the manuscript goes to First Reader for one of the more perilous phases of the project. Yes, I know, but First Reader is Old School, and wants a physical object to tear into. You can’t scribble or hack through paragraphs in phosphors…well, actually you can, but it’s just not as satisfying. So there will be a paper copy, which I will—hopefully—convert back into a finished book once she’s had her way with it. This, naturally, will not happen overnight. So right now I’ve got a little free time–by which I mean writing time not already spoken for–and thus my next problem.

I need to decide how to spend that time. I left the sequel to Black Kath’s Daughter hanging fire because the above project got its priority upgraded. But, to be clear, BKD+ is a personal project and so there are no actual deadlines on it. There are a few people waiting on it, and I do hate to keep them waiting, so I could get back to that while First Reader has her say on TWGS. On the other hand I haven’t written a short story in over six months while I was drafting TWGS. I think I’m getting withdrawal twinges, and I wouldn’t mind using the time to satisfy my short fiction jones.

Must think about this, but not too long since I don’t have all the time in the world and I could end up doing neither. If anyone reading this has an opinion, I’d like to hear it.

Muse and Writer Dialogue #9

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LucilleMUSE and WRITER Dialogues #9

 
 
FADE IN
 

 A room that passes for an office. There are bookshelves on one wall, a motley assortment of carvings, signed storyboards, and framed magazine covers on the free wall space. On the far wall is a medieval-style heraldic wall display of a cockatrice and a banner in bad Latin “Pullus non Est.”  Horizontal files sit beneath the window.  The computer desk is on the wall nearest the door, facing away from the window. Beside that is a printer on a stand. In the base of that is a PC and a PS3. On the right wall hang three guitars. There would be four, except WRITER, currently sitting at the desk, is strumming one of them.

Enter the MUSE. She looks like a Greek goddess, except when she doesn’t. Right now she tends to morph between goddess and rocker chick.

WRITER: Can’t you make up your mind?

MUSE:  You’re one to talk. And why are you torturing that poor guitar?

WRITER (Holds up guitar in question): Beauty, isn’t it? A Michael Kelly Deuce
            Phoenix, semi-hollowbody. They don’t make them anymore.

MUSE: I didn’t ask what it was, I asked why you were torturing it. Are you channeling Dick Cheney?

WRITER: Don’t be silly, and I’m not “torturing it.” I’m practicing a 12-bar blues shuffle.

MUSE: Same thing, from where I stand. Didn’t George Carlin once say that white people got no business playing the blues, ever?

WRITER: If BB King, Albert King, Buddy Guy, Hubert Sumlin, “Sonnyboy” Edwards,  etc. didn’t have a problem with Stevie Ray Vaughn, why should you?

MUSE: You’re not Stevie Ray Vaughn.

WRITER: It’s your job to encourage my artistic pursuits, not throw cold water. And even SRV had to learn.

MUSE:  Speaking of which, isn’t it about time you got your butt back to work on the rewrite of The War God’s Son?

WRITER: Almost. There’s still some continuity research to do.

MUSE: You’re stalling.

WRITER: Am not. I had the final battle location way too far south. Plus I had
            assumed that Yoshiie led the final campaign alone. Not so. His father,
Yoriyoshi, was present as well. Which does, as you well know, affect the middle
section.

MUSE: Really? The old guy was pushing eighty.

WRITER: Tough old bird. But I do have to reconcile how he was seeing portents of
            victory back in Kamakura when he was supposed to be in Mutsu. The only
            primary source is 1) Rare and 2) In Japanese. Sansome only goes so far, but
            I’ll get what I need.

MUSE: Well…okay. But that’s not a proper D major, you know.

WRITER: I do know. It’s a D7. Next I’ll practice the turnaround. Want to heckle?

MUSE: I’ll pass. Just be gentle with that poor guitar, okay?

WRITER: I’ll do my best.

MUSE: You better. Otherwise we’re both wasting our time.

 
FADE OUT.
 
 
 

Marathon, Meet Cliff

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WRITING 02Finishing 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 →

Dog Days

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Bkack Kath's Daughter-2This 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

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LucilleI’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 →