You know you are a writer when you feel wretched and write anyway. Yesterday, I deleted 1100 words from Bunny Trouble but only added 500 back—while sick. There was a section in the novel that was a lot of tell, because I could not figure out how to reveal the detail either in action or dialog. Normally I delete things like that, but I felt what I was trying to say was important to the story.
I figured it out yesterday morning, and made my edits. The cuts were good, it shortened up the chapter and I peppered other parts of the manuscript with the concept I was attempting to convey. I added a bit of foreshadowing here and there and bingo, the novel gets even tighter, and a tad bit punchier.
On The Baby Dancers front, I added an important chapter to the novel. The main character, a teen, is a fine young man. In this chapter, he has a very adult conversation about love, attraction and the dangers of being a warrior (and not dangers to life, but dangers to heart and soul). It was a fine bit of foreshadowing coming off the chapter filled with action goodness, and I am quite enamored with the whole thing. More than just a filler chapter, it is a turning point in this young man’s dealings with other adults, especially women. I spoke from the heart, as raw and visceral as I ever have been.
That was 1775 words. The rest of the novel stretches out before me, clear and bright.
Not too bad, not too bad for writing while I was FOOD POISONED!
The Wife Unit and I let the kids talk us into fast food on the way home Saturday. We are not fast food fans by any stretch, and usually avoid it. The kids however, were both hungry and eager to get home.
That was a mistake. Three out of four of us got sick, with me catching the worst of it. Bleh. It took me all day yesterday to recover. Next time we will pack food before getting on the ferry and hitting the road home.
That is interesting to me. I can feel physically bad and still write about love. I think, dear 8.3 readers, that makes me a hopeless romantic.