I’ve been busy writing The Thing. Someone killed the king, two years early, thus breaking the plot, all because his scene wasn’t big enough, and i didn’t notice for ages that the narrative no longer made sense. It took me some time to fix it, (8-9 days) but at last i’ve done it.
Of course, they took advantage of the edit, made me put in their hair colour, and “Describe my eyes, they’re my best feature.” Wilful things, one’s sired four children in a year, different women, of course, and i think he might be over-compensating for liking men more than he likes women. Keeping him at least bisexual is essential to the plot.
Back to creative writing at last, one of my favourite bits, though i do enjoy editing. Of course, the characters react to my ideas of how the story should progress with sudden bitchiness and demands for a more demanding scene.
It’s just like amateur theatre. That’s the unpaid, everyone volunteers, kind of theatre. Am-dram, as in amateur dramatics. A guy who was just part of the scenery has elbowed his way from being a bit player in the first scene to father of one of the crucial female roles, and has been brought to the capital as one of the most trusted servants. He was just a fucking messenger!
I wave the cattle-prod of plot every so often, remind them we’re supposed to be getting the lead character through childhood, military college, his first marriage, and more, all by the end of Book One.
And that’s about it. I’m still alive. Hope you are too. I’m tweeting more than i’m blogging but i’m not even doing that much. I check my messages.
To give you an idea of why i can’t communicate much right now. On Twitter someone said it was the New Moon, and i nearly tweeted, no it’s not. Because it isn’t, you see, not in the section of the narrative i’m in. It”s the half-moon, and i was sure i’d actually seen it, but of course, it was just in my mind’s eye.
Sure i know what phases of the moon are when. If the characters are outside at night, i need to know if it’s dark. Pfft, it’s logical. No, i had no idea one had to keep track of these things, but one lives and learns. Or goes back, rewrites, and this time, keeps track in a spreadsheet.