It seems my life’s made up of waiting at the moment.
Waiting to see if:
- I actually die of this flu, or survive another year in NSW, the State of Unhealthiness
- the Hot Young Singer takes up the option to record my song, (which may, of course, never result in any real money, but it’s a nice thought)
- The Reader will confirm my thoughts about the edits required on The Thing, (the book i’m writing).
I’m filling my time with good work, though my back’s not good, so am working above the knee. Below there, things are getting crunchy. I’m sure one day soon i will both clean the bath, and the kitchen floor. Before anyone gets irreparably stuck to either.
In the meantime, I’ve warned Mr Whatsit (whose back is so bad he tends to keep things above the hip), to keep a spatula handy to free himself, and me, i’m pretending i can’t see the mess below knee level, and wearing slippers a lot. I have actually started spring-cleaning (it’s that time of year here), and above the knee and up the walls, have dusted, wiped, and dusted again.
Let this be a lesson to you, when they say the chimney at the local power station removes visible smoke, i think it gets visible again when it arrives on surfaces. Or in your lungs. *cough*
Also still waiting, on any of the several ways i have of leaving New South Wales and returning to Queensland. (Not my native home, that’s Western Australia, but Queensland is where i used to live and where i want to go back to.) Sadly, the Invasion Tour of Queensland ’09 which was made ’10, is now looking early 2011. God al-effing-mighty.
When you’re stuck somewhere, and leaving is all the time imminent, it’s so hard to get involved in anything. You feel you can’t get involved in local groups, because you’re about to leave, so what’s the point? Before you know it, that spreads into your personal life too.
You stop trying to achieve goals because you have a new life, starting tomorrow, in a new place. What you do today doesn’t matter, because tomorrow, everything’s going to change.
Fortunately, one of the things i’ve learned is that in times of waiting, it’s possible to achieve a lot, if you just use the time. I had a partner once who was always late, and i learned not to waste my time, waiting for people, or things. This period in NSW has been a hiatus of sorts, but i’ve produced an incredible amount of writing work, and thanks to the local library (reading how-to-write books and most of their novels), and the net, have learned so much more about my craft.
Of course, no guarantees in my life, other than, there will be uncertainty. I might still be here this time next year, though i hope not, another winter here in the House of Doom (it has mould) is something i’d rather not face.
I have several options regarding getting back to Queensland, but none of them are things i can influence. They’re all reliant on other people’s actions and there’s not a damn thing i can do. The only certainty is uncertainty.
So of course, i’m chafing to throw myself back into The Thing where i can hide in a world of my own creation. It’s been read once, edited/corrected, is being read again, about to undergo 2nd edit, then it goes out to two new readers. Letting other people read your work is terribly exciting and scary, but so far other people reading it (and me taking time out) has been so good for the text, i’m hopeful that the next stage will also be positive.
Then what? Well, omg, then i think i need an agent. I have lists of websites, notes of possibilities, and the vague idea of self-publication if necessary. I’m praying the moment i say, The Thing is done, one of the nice agents i follow has secretly been nursing a desire to publish it and snaps it up. Unfortunately, i’m pretty sure all my agent tweeple (i think i have two), don’t do sci fi fantasy.
As for The Thing itself, I have the story mapped out, at least in vague terms, as it continues through the next few books. The nature of the story lends itself to a computer game, i have some notions for merchandising, and i suppose i’ll need a real website, instead of this hosted one.
Gawd, i think i’ll go hide under the bed for a while.
The dustbunnies forced me out, they’d formed an army and were knitting rope out of all the shed hair.
So while i waited for the insecticide to work, I had a chat with First Reader about my thoughts on where the ending should be.
Basic plot was of the hero’s adventures from 15-20: during his last year of school, at a university, in the army (for three years), and then as a kind of diplomat. I was sure i’d tried to stuff too much in, and Book 1 should end at point where, during a drunken rampage, he joins army.
Reader agrees, phew, so am now able to start some work without needing Reader to be finished his second read. (i’ve done an initial edit after printing out the original.) He’s a published writer, so a useful resource. It’s important to me that readers give me more back than just whether they liked it or not.
So now I have cut book back to where hero joins army, which as book was too long, brings it to within about 15,000 words of where it should be. (Cut bits now form outline of Books 2 & 3.) It makes a lot more sense like this, i was trying to stuff way too much in.
So the plan now:
- i rejig chapters
- do chapter summaries and note chapter lengths (will expose where there’s too much stuffed into chapter, or a thread could be expanded)
- with saved space, and 15k to play with, i will kick The Thing around, beat it with sticks, and then
- send to the next round of readers. Along with First Reader, I have a girl reader and a boy reader for round 2, both scifi fantasy fans.
- pray the mould in the house abates and my nose stops running
With spring having sprung here, am hopeful we will at last break the flu cycle – doctors round here say this year, a lot of people who usually have flu shots all ended up with flu so early in the season, they were never able to get well enough to get the shot.
This year, I’m going to have mine right after bloody Christmas.
Oh – and after we’d been waiting for six months (you may remember we rescued a boat from the lake and were told we had salvage rights), the police finally decided to contact someone about the boat, (after Mr’s 4th phonecall).
I’d tried to find a stolen boat register, but only came up with a site that offered to check a list for me for a sizeable fee. We were trying to return the thing to its rightful owner, why should we pay?
Turns out there was a report of a stolen boat. Which anyone in authority could have looked at six months ago. Before the boat killed the lawn. Still, it’s nice the owner’s finally getting it back.
Us? We didn’t even get a thank you.