Tag Archives: wip

Can’t freakin’ believe it

Posted on by Sherri
12

Okay. Yesterday saw a milestone, and some of you witnessed it on Facebook: I finished my work in progress. Now, this may not seem like a very big deal to some people, and it may not be a very big deal to me later, but right now, yeah. It’s huge. Do you know what a struggle this book has been? Later on, when I’m talking about how I learned to be a writer, I’ll cite the two years I worked on this book. I’ll tell how I almost succumbed to the self-doubt; how I learned what real writer’s block is; how I injured my hand and almost gave up the writing biz altogether. I knew it was going to be hard when I started because of the subject matter, but I didn’t know how it would feel to be in the middle of it, and when other things started to pile on, well… You get the idea.

I’m not completely finished yet; I still have to edit the damn thing. I’ve had a few people ask me if I would now do the expected thing and let it sit for a few weeks before tackling the edit. I feel very strongly that this wisdom doesn’t apply here. I have prospects waiting for this manuscript, for one. For another, I took long breaks during the process, and I haven’t read the first half of the novel since I started this last push to the end. I’m motivated and excited; I know what it’s like to not be those things and if they leave again I’ll take a break, but I don’t want to waste them while they’re here.

So I have a long way to go. I still have to make some hard decisions, and I’m still not entirely confident in my abilities. However, the editing has always been easier for me than the actual writing. And I’ll have it done by the end of February, this I vow.

I can’t freakin’ believe it.

The end is near

Posted on by Sherri
7

Had a great writing day on Sunday, despite feeling migrainey at times. I started the epilogue today, so THE END is finally within my sights. I expect to type it within the next day or two. Can’t frickin’ believe it. Of course, this is only the end of the first draft, because even though I’ve done 3rd and 4th drafts of certain chapters, the final third has been a long, painful extraction.

Once I’m completely finished with the final wrap-up chapter, I’ll start from the beginning and re-write a scene at a time. Finishing this book is completely surreal. I’ve never thought past the end, because, I guess, I never really believed it would ever be done. So post-BVA is a long, dark road. Kind of scary. I’ve never had nothing to work on. I guess I’ll putter around, write some shorts and submit them, maybe enter some contests before starting the next novel.

I’m getting ahead of myself, though, because this final re-write will realistically take a month.

A little piece of my heart

Posted on by Sherri
12

I had a strange Christmas, but it turned out okay. I’ve declared this write-my-ass-off week, seeing has how hubby is on vacation and able to take care of the children. I’m usually sort of a pushover about it, but this week I’m holding my own, and am prepared to eat all my meals in my bedroom if necessary in order to reinforce the fact that Daddy is in charge. It worked today.

I’m posting a little excerpt, something I wrote today. It’s rough and nobody will understand a bit of it, but I’m posting it to make myself feel better. I had to cut 3,000 words last night, and I have some nebulous feeling that showing the world that I actually am writing will heal that wound. *shrugs*

A little set-up: both Caellum and Drina are Ushers who live in the Black Veil, a parallel dimension to ours where souls go when they leave here. In this scene they’re sitting on top of a building in our world, pondering things. Caellum’s Scottish, and I’m still working on the best way to convey that through dialogue.

~~~

At Caellum’s favorite bar, Drina sat at the edge of the roof with her legs dangling over, so close to Caellum that their thighs touched. She swung her right foot, hooked behind his left. Caellum didn’t seem to mind.

He put his arm around her shoulders and jostled her playfully. “Are ye all right, lass?”

“I’ll be fine.” The Veil was as thin as they could make it, even though there was no music echoing between the buildings that night and the street was dark. Maybe in Lifeworld a lot of time had passed since they were last here, and this place, obviously in decline before, had finally succumbed. She could find a the date in a newspaper, but it had ceased to matter to her what had gone on in Lifeworld in her absence. Dipping in every few years was just a shock to her still-human thought processes, her expectation of time. Let the Black Veil carry her perception of time. Soon she would be surprised to Usher Abuela Delores to the Light, and soon after that, her mother. “I think I made a difference. Do you think so?”

The sliver of moon reflected off his scales in a halo around his elegant profile, lost when he turned to look at her. “Aye. Ye’ve set your mother’s mind at ease as best ye can. My parents should have had such a dedicated child.” He looked out over the street again, and the halo illuminated his peaceful expression once more, the peace of a man who knew he’d done good work.

“I don’t think I ever want to do it again. Go into someone’s dream, I mean. That was the last time I’ll worry about my old life. What matters is here and now.” She laid her hand on his thigh. Her heart was bursting with love for him, completely elemental and overwhelming, but she was glad. It pulled a deep sigh from her chest, and she closed her eyes and tilted her face to the sky, perhaps the first time in a long time she was completely unguarded with Caellum. His thigh muscle flexed under her palm, the scales so smooth against her skin, and she knew he felt as strongly as she did when she felt his fingertip on her lips. A soft, breathy hum escaped her throat. She opened her eyes, willing herself to stay in control.

He took her hand from his thigh and lifted it slowly to his mouth. She watched, anticipating the spark his lips would create on her skin. She remembered him saying, once upon a time, When it’s your only bit of skin, it becomes extra important. She thought of it every time they’d made love in their strange, celibate way, skin on skin, teasing human hormones until they each collapsed with sweet frustration. The last few times, however, the frustration had simply been frustrating. If his lips touched her palm now, it would only push them apart once again.

She moved her hand at the last moment and lay it along his jaw. He held her hand there and looked into her eyes. She said, “I love you so much, Caellum. You torture me.”

“No, lass, you torture me. But your wish is my command.” He squeezed her hand before placing it in her lap, disengaging his foot from hers and scooting over. Those two inches felt like an icy mountain river. How could he switch off so quickly? Infuriating.

She’d get over it. He was with her, he loved her, he was still her best friend. They were comfortable together after a time of misunderstandings and hot tempers, so she would deal with the physical distance if it meant his heart would be hers. “When Mom thought you were Orlando I almost pissed my pants.”

Caellum erupted into laughter, and with no one below to hear it, Drina didn’t shush him.

“Hm,” he said once his laughter subsided. “I imagine she picked up some of your intentions. It fit too well, didn’t it?” He turned back to her deliberately. Just before his face slipped back into the shadow, he cocked an eyebrow.

Uh oh. Busted.
~~~