Musings About Writing and Stories About Life
She's like the girl in the movie when the Spitfire falls
Like the girl in the picture that he couldn't afford
She's like the girl with the smile in the hospital ward
Like the girl in the novel in the wind on the moors
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2005-07-14 10:20 PM
The best book I've written
Words written: “Breakfast in Bed” 655
Sometimes, you have to have to go with the small successes. Today’s accomplishment was that, as much as I wanted to several times, I did not weep from sheer exhaustion.
But this is a writing journal, despite my segues into rambling about Lawrence Gowan’s stomach (which, you have to admit, is a refreshing change from listening to me ramble about his ass. Isn’t it?). I wanted to mention something a fellow writer said on one of my writing lists. It really blew me away, and it’s probably something I’ll return to mentally again and again. I’ve heard this before, from K&D and others, but this time, it managed to penetrate all the way to my hindbrain. Like a very pointy spear.
“By its very nature, this will be the best book you've written, just as the next book will be better than this one. Because with every one, you are learning.”
Started a new short story this morning for a Black Lace anthology (due the same time as the novel, and our co-written story for the same anthology). The voice struck me, and I wanted to get as much down as I could. I wasn’t feeling well by the time we headed home—exhaustion combined with heat and sun and slow traffic and exhaust fumes—although it was much better once we got south of Santa Barbara, with ocean breezes and smells and the always-gorgeous view—so no writing then. Ken was still off helping Meg & Matt, so I fended for myself for supper, and then got a few things done. Edited a chapter briefly, then read through several chapters to refresh my memory of them, and made notes for the one I’m about to start.
I’d ramble more, but I’m really starting to hurt, and I need to sleep. Very, very badly. This entry isn’t nearly as funny as I thought the last one was (although ya’ll didn’t comment much on the last one, which probably proves that exhaustion = inability to perceive humor).
Currently Reading: Time Management from the Inside Out, Julie Morgenstern; The Highlander’s Touch, Karen Marie Moning
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