Snow Days Are Good For...

"And Whereas snow, in many forms, is thought to impede the progress of the nation, it has here been proved as a catalyst for literary productivity...."

Such might run a resolution in recognition of snow-days bringing on the writing bug. Thursday, quite snowed in and unwilling to spend very long out in the cold after an icy walk, I holed myself upstairs with a fast-cooling cup of tea (or three) and finished the first draft of The Fox Went Out. I finished the draft only 590-some words past the 15,000 limit laid out by Narrative: a number easily cut in editing rounds. I wasted little time in printing the thing off and beginning first round edits. I am able to come to you tonight with first round edits also complete. If you are struggling to finish a first draft, may I suggest calling upon the weather man and ordering up snow? And if the temperature rises and you find the snow quickly melting, I might also suggest establishing a gravel-less driveway which will naturally provide you a quagmire during the thaw. It is currently quite the ordeal for me to even make it to the road to check the mail. Effective for keeping the distracted writer indoors and working, oui? I hope to type up my changes over what remains of the weekend and send The Fox Went Out to a couple trusted critics. My write-along (the wingman of writing-sprees who will read what you write as you write it and beg for more) this time was Clara Diane Thompson, fellow author of Five Glass Slippers. Clara did her part valiantly and howled over the ending of the story which made me feel penitent but Not. You know the feeling, perhaps? I am excited to receive feedback from the betas and take it through Editing Round Two so that I can get it away to Narrative's contest and its fate.

Reading has picked up. I'm in the throes of a beastly cold. Nearly done with The Hunger Games and reading Psmith, Journalist by P.G. Wodehouse for medicine. It really does work magic. I went on a book-buying spree at the front of the week: Rachel Rossano's Honor, Flannery O'Connor's Mystery & Manners, N.D. Wilson's Notes From The Tilt-a-Whirl. I have not read anything by O'Connor. Wilson, too, is a mystery. I can hardly wait for the books to come so I can dig in. I've been in need of fresh non-fiction. Somehow I find it as inspiring as (if not more than) fiction. I've heard much of O'Connor...how she is somber, dark, desperate. But I've also heard of the "terrible speed of mercy" that hurtles through her work and the Christian worldview through which her fictional worlds were created. So I am interested to read this collection of essays listed in The Rabbit Room as essential reading for modern readers and writers. I will be sure to let you know how I like it.And N.D. Wilson's word-crafting has enraptured me from afar since I first saw the book-trailer for his Boys of Blur.

What are you reading?

Sampling Cottleston Pie

The point of this post was to share snippets of Cottleston Pie but I feel I must interrupt normal programming to make an announcement. Jennifer Freitag, one my most beloved writing friends, is as I write giving birth to a baby Freitag. That's right! Not only does Jenny make books, she makes babies. What can that woman not do? I hope you will join me in wishing Jenny and Tim all happiness. <3 MY news, in comparison, weakens. I finished writing the first draft of Cottleston Pie last night. Or was it the night before? No matter. I finished writing it and immediately about-faced and started in on editing the first three chapters which then went straight to the few readers I selected to beta read. When they are finished, I will analyze their critiques, make needed changes, and send this packet off to the publisher. Then I'll sit for twelve weeks, hoping any day to see an email in my inbox, give up by week thirteen, and try again. But for now, I will glory in small triumphs, such as officially finishing Cottleston Pie. Here are some of the trimmings:

A Pirate is always in need of a warrior...Simpian kept still and quiet after this. He plucked a stem of wood sorrel and thought and thought. Was a Pirate always in need of a warrior? All through history he thought he’d remembered that Pirates and Warriors kept well apart from each other. Black Beard didn’t have a Warrior, and you didn’t hear stories of Davy Jones carting about boatfuls of Crusaders, did you? Simpian twirled the wood sorrel between his thumb and first finger and looked sideways at the mole. Bertram, in his turn, looked back at Simpian.

Simpian stomped eight paces to the soft patch. A pace, at least at Cottleston Pie, was a little more than a walk and a little less than a jog: sort of lippity-lip, like the kind of thing Sylvi the Rabbit had done.

“You might be a Warrior and have a sword that sings,” the King answered, “but you are new here and should not poke fun at our very good ways.”

 

(Simpian) nodded, paired with a nervous glance at the borrowed pen-knife which was rusty and dull and not very steady on its hinge.

Simpian took a step forward and thought how awkward it was, this dueling thing. He could understand how two people in the heat of a moment might come to blows, but it was strange to pick a fight when perfectly calm. How did you do it? “I say, can I stick you now?” sounded too impolite. “Let’s charge at the count of three!” was better, but a little unsure of itself yet.

“We’ll be overcrowded!” the King protested. “We already sent an invitation to a Friendly One to visit. What if the Friendly One comes after all and sees us clogged up with moles and rabbits and all sorts of creatures and decides to go on the side of the Skellingtons? What then? Holy Moly, what will happen to us then? Perhaps the Friendly Ones are unaccustomed to being jealous, and perhaps they will turn green and sneak into our bedrooms at night."

She smiled as only a bird can smile. Which is to say, she spread the flexible corners of her beak in a goodwill-toward-men gape that would have looked frightening on anything that was not a sparrow.

But because trees wondered what they’d look like in gold and the Pirates wondered where they’d hidden their jewels, and the boy wondered if the rabbit had a name, there were Autumns and High Seas and Kings at Cottleston Pie.

It was okay to wonder.

Wondering is a small kind of adventure.

“I SAID,” the King boomed, “That brains are for using, didn’t I?”

Simpian felt himself go pink. “Yes.”

“So Vesper should put a clothespin on her beak, shouldn’t she?”

“But I wonder!” the sparrow wailed.

“STOP WONDERING,” the King shouted.

And Sylvi, for no reason at all, bounced about chanting: “Pink sticks! Cotton fluff! Chalk-dust and ink!”

 

"I said that I could do it...I knew it...I knew it."

"I said that I could do it and indeed I did!"

-My Fair Lady

Fair ladies and noble gents...

...great people from far and near...

The day has come when I have completely finished Fly Away Home!

I realize, of course, that this may not be the most exciting news you've ever heard, but for me it's a definite milestone. Not only have I effectively edited, applied critique, and rewritten the whole book quite systematically, but it's a story that has promise and potential. I have a sneaking suspicion that if my dreams of publishing are to come true, Fly Away Home might be the means.

^All she needs is Nickleby. :)

 It's a dear story full of humor, wit, romance, and nobility with a nice wide slosh of "danger." In fact, the villain of the story, Jules Cameron, perfectly describes his part in the novel in one of his finest moments:

“How about a cocktail of murder, intrigue, romance, and lies?"

Ah yes. And if that doesn't intrigue you, you must be in need of cardiac-surgery. (If that's even a term, which I somewhat doubt.)

I have a really exciting opportunity for a famous-in-the-Christian-circles man to read my book and give me his opinion. If it all works out, this could be amazing: getting professional input from this man would mean a lot to me. It'll be downright scary, but it will be great. In the meantime I will begin to send round the query letters and pray this book finds a home soon.

Mothers are not suppose to have favorite children. I'm not certain if that rule applies to authors having favorite books, but who really cares. Because I have written 5 novels now, I know that there are some that just stick with you. Fly Away Home is that way for me. There was not a moment I actually got tired of it. In fact, the rewriting process only made me understand several characters all the better so that I actually like them more at this end of it. Some of the these characters are Maralie Barrymore whose role was so changed by the final edition, and Jerry Atwood who is still a darling, and still one of my favorite side characters despite all the changes around him. Nickleby, too, is a paragon of marvelous cat-dom. When this book is published, your feline friends will enjoy it quite as much as you, because one of their kind plays a large-ish part in the story.

I have high hopes for this book, and I love it.

I know you'll love it.

I know that the readers I have given the book to have loved it.

I suppose all I want to say is that all the woes of planning and executing a story, all the trials of editing, all the pain of rewriting, all the annoyance of taking other people's opinions and applying them to your book....all of it is so entirely worth it when you can click out of Microsoft Word, having polished it till it shines like Jerry Atwood's desk bell, and think:

"L'Chaim!"

It's a wrap! -Or- "When I crossed the finish line!" :)

This morning at 9:00 a.m. exactly I typed the very last words of Fly Away Home. I had been writing for two and a half hours straight, and it felt like a flash--that beautiful, dizzying momentum one builds at the end of a tale. I am going to miss Callie and Mr. Barnett so so so much....thankfully that friendless-ness will be postponed a while because I know I have plenty of editing with which to hobnob with them in the weeks to come. I am so blessed by this story. So pleased with the characters, the plot, the tensions, the message...it's a real accomplishment for me. So. In celebration I thought I'd give you a quick Ten Random Facts list about this new-born book!

1. It will be receiving a new name: not sure what this will entail, but Fly Away Home is already a movie so I am renaming the book.

2. First Word: "I'm"

3. Last Word: "Coffee"

4. Favorite Side-Character: Dirigible. He's just a random dude that popped in unexpectedly toward the end of the book and I love him.

5. The book actually ends with the same line that the short story that inspired the book ends with: "...how about coffee?" *smile* :)

6. Total word count: 59, 755 words

7. There was a major plot-shift at the half-way point that definitely hiked up the LOCK appeal.

8. Mr. Barnett and Callie have their own form of verbal sparring (quite literally a form) that occurs multiple times, including in the last scene. :)

9. The theme-song for the book is "Beyond the Sea" by Bobby Darin

10. All the specifically named guests (besides Mr. Barnett, Callie, and one other couple) that go on the yachting outing are real celebrities from the early 1950's...including a special appearance by David Nelson of "Ozzie and Harriet." :)

Is that all you blighters can do?

After pushing hard to finish my W.I.P. all through the early part of this year, I am enjoying giving myself a break from writing for a couple of weeks. I have letters that I need to reply to and books that have been waiting for a quieter season to be read. I intend to do all that for a little while (I know I will not have the discipline for it to be more than two weeks tops) and I am indulging in smile-flavored sentiments of this category:

"Show Me" from My Fair Lady

(And yes, I am agreeing with this song in a very tongue-in-cheek manner)

And so we part. :' )

It is finished. I have just completed The Scarlet-Gypsy Song! I am almost sorry to be done with this book--it is my favorite of all my "children". But I will not be dismal. It is a great triumph to have written a book in just 4 months, in my opinion. :) I also went past my goal-length, which was another triumph, and I had success with plotting and pacing! The last chapter might just be my favorite...I will say, the last chapter will probably make you cry. :P

So here are the Stats:

Clocked in at: 75,543 words
Chapters: 24
First line: "There was Nannykins to begin with, but she had a bad knee and left for the North."
Last line: "The End is rather a long way off, I think; we've only just come to the Once Upon a Time." :)  Favorite Character: Diccon Quarry--First Lord of the East Striding
Least Favorite Character: Dear-Heart, actually. She irritated me for some reason--she's rather a busy-body.

Needless to say, I am very happy today. :)