Austen-esque author finds her Mr Darcy

This is a lovely story.

Tee hee

This is a sad day for the English language

What is NZQA thinking?

Public expression becomes private interpretation

"The story the reader reads is probably never quite the story the writer felt they were writing, because the reader will bring all sorts of judgements and experiences which the writer can’t anticipate."
Margaret Mahy

From an article entitled "Margaret Mahy's Marvellous Mind" at Idealog.

A little progress… maybe

So I’ve been researching and submitting to agents in the UK, and most recently the US. After refining my query letter and narrowly selecting the most likely agent fits, I have finally garnered some interest from the US. I have requests for 2 partials and a full. The full has been requested on an exclusive basis. My warning antenna automatically shoots up, thanks to Miss Snark, so in my letter to this agency I might let them know about the partials – after all they can’t force an exclusive. The fact that they’d ask for it, after I sent the first 3 chapters by email, is quite promising though.

I mustn’t get my hopes up of course. This is just the beginning of the journey. But after a sea of “this isn’t right for us”, actually having some interest in my novel feels quite gratifying. It’s amazing how even the smallest glimmer of hope can make you happy sometimes!

Now I just have to navigate the confusing international postal system. International reply coupons and all that. The joys of residing in a small Pacific nation.

Update 15 December: My full manuscript was rejected, which is a blessing in a way, because I received my first comments on it from a publishing professional. The criticisms involve major revisions, but the encouragements were kind. I am feeling a little burnt out by the whole process at the moment, so I have decided to take at least 6 months off from querying and re-writing. My hopes and dreams need a rest.

Ten Mistakes Writers Don't See (But Can Easily Fix When They Do)

REPEATS
Just about every writer unconsciously leans on a "crutch" word. Hillary Clinton's repeated word is "eager" (can you believe it? the committee that wrote "Living History" should be ashamed). Cosmopolitan magazine editor Kate White uses "quickly" over a dozen times in "A Body To Die For." Jack Kerouac's crutch word in "On the Road" is "sad," sometimes doubly so - "sad, sad." Ann Packer's in "The Dive from Clausen's Pier" is "weird."

Crutch words are usually unremarkable. That's why they slip under editorial radar - they're not even worth repeating, but there you have it, pop, pop, pop, up they come. Readers, however, notice them, get irked by them and are eventually distracted by them, and down goes your book, never to be opened again.

But even if the word is unusual, and even if you use it differently when you repeat it, don't: Set a higher standard for yourself even if readers won't notice. In Jennifer Egan's "Look at me," the core word - a good word, but because it's good, you get *one* per book - is "abraded." Here's the problem:
"Victoria's blue gaze abraded me with the texture of ground glass." page 202
"...(metal trucks abrading the concrete)..." page 217
"...he relished the abrasion of her skepticism..." page 256
"...since his abrasion with Z ..." page 272

The same goes for repeats of several words together - a phrase or sentence that may seem fresh at first, but, restated many times, draws attention from the author's strengths. Sheldon Siegel nearly bludgeons us in his otherwise witty and articulate courtroom thriller, "Final Verdict" with a sentence construction that's repeated throughout the book:

"His tone oozes self-righteousness when he says..." page 188
"His voice is barely audible when he says..." page 193
"His tone is unapologetic when he says..." page 199
"Rosie keeps her tone even when she says..." page 200
"His tone is even when he says..." page 205
"I switch to my lawyer voice when I say ..." page 211
"He sounds like Grace when he says..." page 211

What a tragedy. I'm not saying all forms of this sentence should be lopped off. Lawyers find their rhythm in the courtroom by phrasing questions in the same or similar way. It's just that you can't do it too often on the page. After the third or fourth or 16th time, readers exclaim silently, "Where was the editor who shoulda caught this?" or "What was the author thinking?"

So if you are the author, don't wait for the agent or house or even editorial consultant to catch this stuff *for* you. Attune your eye now. Vow to yourself, NO REPEATS.

And by the way, even deliberate repeats should always be questioned: "Here are the documents." says one character. "If these are the documents, I'll oppose you," says another. A repeat like that just keeps us on the surface. Figure out a different word; or rewrite the exchange. Repeats rarely allow you to probe deeper.


FLAT WRITING
"He wanted to know but couldn't understand what she had to say, so he waited until she was ready to tell him before asking what she meant."

Something is conveyed in this sentence, but who cares? The writing is so flat, it just dies on the page. You can't fix it with a few replacement words - you have to give it depth, texture, character. Here's another:

"Bob looked at the clock and wondered if he would have time to stop for gas before driving to school to pick up his son after band practice." True, this could be important - his wife might have hired a private investigator to document Bob's inability to pick up his son on time - and it could be that making the sentence bland invests it with more tension. (This is the editorial consultant giving you the benefit of the doubt.) Most of the time, though, a sentence like this acts as filler. It gets us from A to B, all right, but not if we go to the kitchen to make a sandwich and find something else to read when we sit down.

Flat writing is a sign that you've lost interest or are intimidated by your own narrative. It shows that you're veering toward mediocrity, that your brain is fatigued, that you've lost your inspiration. So use it as a lesson. When you see flat writing on the page, it's time to rethink, refuel and rewrite.


EMPTY ADVERBS
Actually, totally, absolutely, completely, continually, constantly, continuously, literally, really, unfortunately, ironically, incredibly, hopefully, finally - these and others are words that promise emphasis, but too often they do the reverse. They suck the meaning out of every sentence.

I defer to People Magazine for larding its articles with empty adverbs. A recent issue refers to an "incredibly popular, groundbreakingly racy sitcom." That's tough to say even when your lips aren't moving.

In "Still Life with Crows," Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child describe a mysterious row of corn in the middle of a field: "It was, in fact, the only row that actually opened onto the creek." Here are two attempts at emphasis ("in fact," "actually"), but they just junk up the sentence. Remove them both and the word "only" carries the burden of the sentence with efficiency and precision.

(When in doubt, try this mantra: Precise and spare; precise and spare; precise and spare.)

In dialogue, empty adverbs may sound appropriate, even authentic, but that's because they've crept into American conversation in a trendy way. If you're not watchful, they'll make your characters sound wordy, infantile and dated.

In Julia Glass's "Three Junes," a character named Stavros is a forthright and matter-of-fact guy who talks to his lover without pretense or affectation. But when he mentions an offbeat tourist souvenir, he says, "It's absolutely wild. I love it." Now he sounds fey, spoiled, superficial.. (Granted, "wild" nearly does him in; but "absolutely" is the killer.)

The word "actually" seems to emerge most frequently, I find. Ann Packer's narrator recalls running in the rain with her boyfriend, "his hand clasping mine as if he could actually make me go fast." Delete "actually" and the sentence is more powerful without it.

The same holds true when the protagonist named Miles hears some information in "Empire Falls" by Richard Russo. "Actually, Miles had no doubt of it," we're told. Well, if he had no doubt, remove "actually" - it's cleaner, clearer that way. "Actually" mushes up sentence after sentence; it gets in the way every time. I now think it should *never* be used.

Another problem with empty adverbs: You can't just stick them at the beginning of a sentence to introduce a general idea or wishful thinking, as in "Hopefully, the clock will run out." Adverbs have to modify a verb or other adverb, and in this sentence, "run out" ain't it.

Look at this hilarious clunker from "The Da Vinci Code" by Dan Brown: "Almost inconceivably, the gun into which she was now staring was clutched in the pale hand of an enormous albino."

Ack, "almost inconceivably" - that's like being a little bit infertile! Hopefully, that "enormous albino" will ironically go back to actually flogging himself while incredibly saying his prayers continually.


PHONY DIALOGUE
Be careful of using dialogue to advance the plot. Readers can tell when characters talk about things they already know, or when the speakers appear to be having a conversation for our benefit. You never want one character to imply or say to the other, "Tell me again, Bruce: What are we doing next?"

Avoid words that are fashionable in conversation. Ann Packer's characters are so trendy the reader recoils. " 'What's up with that?' I said. 'Is this a thing [love affair]?' " "We both smiled. " 'What is it with him?' I said. 'I mean, really.' " Her book is only a few years old, and already it's dated.

Dialogue offers glimpses into character the author can't provide through description. Hidden wit, thoughtful observations, a shy revelation, a charming aside all come out in dialogue, so the characters *show* us what the author can't *tell* us. But if dialogue helps the author distinguish each character, it also nails the culprit who's promoting a hidden agenda by speaking out of character.

An unfortunate pattern within the dialogue in "Three Junes," by the way, is that all the male characters begin to sound like the author's version of Noel Coward - fey, acerbic, witty, superior, puckish, diffident. Pretty soon the credibility of the entire novel is shot. You owe it to each character's unique nature to make every one of them an original.

Now don't tell me that because Julia Glass won the National Book Award, you can get away with lack of credibility in dialogue. Setting your own high standards and sticking to them - being proud of *having* them - is the mark of a pro. Be one, write like one, and don't cheat.


NO-GOOD SUFFIXES
Don't take a perfectly good word and give it a new backside so it functions as something else. The New York Times does this all the time. Instead of saying, "as a director, she is meticulous," the reviewer will write, "as a director, she is known for her meticulousness." Until she is known for her obtuseness.

The "ness" words cause the eye to stumble, come back, reread: Mindlessness, characterlessness, courageousness, statuesqueness, preciousness - you get the idea. You might as well pour marbles into your readers' mouths. Not all "ness" words are bad - goodness, no - but they are all suspect.

The "ize" words are no better - finalize, conceptualize, fantasize, categorize. The "ize" hooks itself onto words as a short-cut but stays there like a parasite. Cops now say to each other about witnesses they've interrogated, "Did you statementize him?" Some shortcut. Not all "ize" words are bad, either, but they do have the ring of the vulgate to them - "he was brutalized by his father," "she finalized her report." Just try to use them rarely.

Adding "ly" to "ing" words has a little history to it. Remember the old Tom Swifties? "I hate that incision," the surgeon said cuttingly. "I got first prize!" the boy said winningly. But the point to a good Tom Swiftie is to make a punchline out of the last adverb. If you do that in your book, the reader is unnecessarily distracted. Serious writing suffers from such antics.

Some "ingly" words do have their place. I can accept "swimmingly," "annoyingly," "surprisingly" as descriptive if overlong "ingly" words. But not "startlingly," "harrowingly" or "angeringly," "careeningly" - all hell to pronounce, even in silence, like the "groundbreakingly" used by People magazine above. Try to use all "ingly" words (can't help it) sparingly.


THE 'TO BE' WORDS:
Once your eye is attuned to the frequent use of the "to be" words - "am," "is," "are," "was," "were," "be," "being," "been" and others - you'll be appalled at how quickly they flatten prose and slow your pace to a crawl.

The "to be" words represent the existence of things - "I am here. You are there." Think of Hamlet's query, "to be, or not to be." To exist is not to act, so the "to be" words pretty much just there sit on the page. "I am the maid." "It was cold." "You were away."

I blame mystery writers for turning the "to be" words into a trend: Look how much burden is placed on the word "was" in this sentence: "Around the corner, behind the stove, under the linoleum, was the gun." All the suspense of finding the gun dissipates. The "to be" word is not fair to the gun, which gets lost in a sea of prepositions.

Sometimes, "to be" words do earn a place in writing: "In a frenzy by now, he pushed the stove away from the wall and ripped up the linoleum. Cold metal glinted from under the floorboards. He peered closer. Sure enough, it was the gun." Okay, I'm lousy at this, but you get the point: Don't squander the "to be" words - save them for special moments.

Not so long ago, "it was" *defined* emphasis. Even now, if you want to say, "It was Margaret who found the gun," meaning nobody else but Margaret, fine. But watch out - "it was" can be habitual: "It was Jack who joined the Million Man March. It was Bob who said he would go, too. But it was Bill who went with them." Flat, flat, flat.

Try also to reserve the use of "there was" or "there is" for special occasions. If used too often, this crutch also bogs down sentence after sentence. "He couldn't believe there was furniture in the room. There was an open dresser drawer. There was a sock on the bed. There was a stack of laundry in the corner. There was a handkerchief on the floor...." By this time, we're dozing off, and you haven't even gotten to the kitchen

One finds the dreaded "there was/is" in jacket copy all the time. "Smith's book offers a range of lively characters: There is Jim, the puzzle-loving dad. There is Winky, the mom who sits on the 9th Court of Appeals. There is Barbie, brain surgeon to the stars...."

Attune your eye to the "to be" words and you'll see them everywhere. When in doubt, replace them with active, vivid, engaging verbs. Muscle up that prose.


LISTS
"She was entranced by the roses, hyacinths, impatiens, mums, carnations, pansies, irises, peonies, hollyhocks, daylillies, morning glories, larkspur..." Well, she may be entranced, but our eyes are glazing over.

If you're going to describe a number of items, jack up the visuals. Lay out the the scene as the eye sees it, with emphasis and emotion in unlikely places. When you list the items as though we're checking them off with a clipboard, the internal eye will shut.

It doesn't matter what you list - nouns, adjectives, verbs - the result is always static. "He drove, he sighed, he swallowed, he yawned in impatience." So do we. Dunk the whole thing. Rethink and rewrite. If you've got many ingredients and we aren't transported, you've got a list.


SHOW, DON'T TELL
If you say, "she was stunning and powerful," you're *telling* us. But if you say, "I was stunned by her elegant carriage as she strode past the jury - shoulders erect, elbows back, her eyes wide and watchful," you're *showing* us. The moment we can visualize the picture you're trying to paint, you're showing us, not telling us what we *should* see..

Handsome, attractive, momentous, embarrassing, fabulous, powerful, hilarious, stupid, fascinating are all words that "tell" us in an arbitrary way what to think. They don't reveal, don't open up, don't describe in specifics what is unique to the person or event described. Often they begin with cliches.

Here is Gail Sheehy's depiction of a former "surfer girl" from the New Jersey shore in "Middletown, America":

"This was a tall blond tomboy who grew up with all guy friends. A natural beauty who still had age on her side, being thirty; she didn't give a thought to taming her flyaway hair or painting makeup on her smooth Swedish skin."

Here I *think* I know what Sheehy means, but I'm not sure. Don't let the reader make such assumptions. You're the author; it's your charge to show us what you mean with authentic detail. Don't pretend the job is accomplished by cliches such as "smooth Swedish skin," "flyaway hair," "tall blond tomboy," "the surfer girl" - how smooth? how tall? how blond?

Or try this from Faye Kellerman in "Street Dreams": "[Louise's] features were regular, and once she had been pretty. Now she was handsome in her black skirt, suit, and crisp, white blouse."

Well, that's it for Louise, poor thing. Can you see the character in front of you? A previous sentence tells us that Louise has "blunt-cut hair" framing an "oval face," which helps, but not much - millions of women have a face like that. What makes Louise distinctive? Again, we may think we know what Kellerman means by "pretty" and "handsome" (good luck), but the inexcusable word here is "regular," as in "her features were regular." What *are* "regular" features?

The difference between telling and showing usually boils down to the physical senses. Visual, aural aromatic words take us out of our skin and place us in the scene you've created. In conventional narrative it's fine to use a "to be" word to talk us into the distinctive word, such as "wandered" in this brief, easily imagined sentence by John Steinbeck in "East of Eden." "His eyes were very blue, and when he was tired, one of them wandered outward a little." We don't care if he is "handsome" or "regular."

Granted, context is everything, as writing experts say, and certainly that's true of the sweltering West African heat in Graham Greene's "The Heart of the Matter": "Her face had the ivory tinge of atabrine; her hair which had once been the color of bottled honey was dark and stringy with sweat." Except for "atabrine" (a medicine for malaria), the words aren't all that distinctive, but they quietly do the job - they don't tell us; they show us.

Commercial novels sometimes abound with the most revealing examples of this problem. The boss in Linda Lael Miller's "Don't Look Now" is "drop-dead gorgeous"; a former boyfriend is "seriously fine to look at: 35, half Irish and half Hispanic, his hair almost black, his eyes brown." A friend, Betsy, is "a gorgeous, leggy blonde, thin as a model." Careful of that word "gorgeous" - used too many times, it might lose its meaning.


AWKWARD PHRASING
"Mrs. Fletcher's face pinkened slightly." Whoa. This is an author trying too hard. "I sat down and ran a finger up the bottom of his foot, and he startled so dramatically .... " Egad, "he startled"? You mean "he started"?

Awkward phrasing makes the reader stop in the midst of reading and ponder the meaning of a word or phrase. This you never want as an author. A rule of thumb - always give your work a little percolatin' time before you come back to it. Never write right up to deadline. Return to it with fresh eyes. You'll spot those overworked tangles of prose and know exactly how to fix them.


COMMAS
Compound sentences, most modifying clauses and many phrases *require* commas. You may find it necessary to break the rules from time to time, but you can't delete commas just because you don't like the pause they bring to a sentence or just because you want to add tension.

"Bob ran up the stairs and looking down he realized his shoelace was untied but he couldn't stop because they were after him so he decided to get to the roof where he'd retie it." This is what happens when an author believes that omitting commas can make the narrative sound breathless and racy. Instead it sounds the reverse - it's heavy and garbled.

The Graham Greene quote above is dying for commas, which I'll insert here: "Her face had the ivory tinge of atabrine; her hair, which had once been the color of bottled honey, was dark and stringy with sweat." This makes the sentence accessible to the reader, an image one needs to slow down and absorb.

Entire books have been written about punctuation. Get one. "The Chicago Manual of Style" shows why punctuation is necessary in specific instances. If you don't know what the rules are for, your writing will show it.

The point to the List above is that even the best writers make these mistakes, but you can't afford to. The way manuscripts are thrown into the Rejection pile on the basis of early mistakes is a crime. Don't be a victim.

Care of Holt Uncensored.

How ironic

It's a great concept for a shirt, but funny that it proudly proclaims "Made in the USA". Out of anyone, Americans are the worst murderers of the English language.

This and other gear for writers here.

A new theory

So I sent off submission #3 this week, to another local NZ publisher. When going through all the local publishers' lists, again, a new theory on why I'm being rejected hit me. (This is of course the back up theory, firmly behind the 'my book sucks' theory)

All of the books on the local lists seem to have some kind of reference to NZ in them - they're set here, or feature NZers in other parts of the world. As you may imagine from my literary tastes, my book is firmly set in England and has no connections to NZ whatsoever (except for the fact that I live here!).

So now I am researching UK agents. The publisher I would most like to target there does take unsolicited submissions, but not by email. The international reply coupon thing is just too complicated, so I am opting to contact agents who accept email queries.

Hopefully this will shed some light on which theory is correct...

If at first…

A few weeks ago I received the first rejection of my novel from a publisher. Although I had constantly told myself 'it will probably get rejected', nothing could prepare me for the moment I first found out. Sitting at my desk at work, putting on a happy face for mcolleagueses, I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach. It was just a form letter - we are too busy to comment, we only publish a few titles a year so why we recommend you try these other publishers...

So, moving on. Today my second submission is in the post. Stripping my synopsis down to the 500 words they requested was a struggle (it's still not 500 words, but it's less than a page!). They also only requested a partial rather than the whole thing, so the stakes are lower. Having experienced the first rejection a second one won't surprise me. Have to keep plugging on though, just in case.

Advice from a New York literati

All manner of tidbits for aspiring writers are liberally shared by an incognito New York Agent, Miss Snark, here. As you might expect from the name, each dose is injected with an amusing combination of satire, impatience and an unhealthy obsession with George Clooney. Quite addictive.

It is finished!

My novel is printed, and it is now on its way to the publisher with letter and synopsis in tow. It's going to take me a while to get used to not having that nagging guilt in the back of my mind all the time: "Should be working on my story".

Of course, if I feel like doing some more writing once I've had a break, I do already have 3,000 words written in various bits and pieces for my next novel. And they say that you shouldn't wait to hear back from publishers, that you should start working on something else straight away. However, I am sure I will spend at least a few months just kicking back and relaxing in my spare time. Starting this weekend - Warbirds over Wanaka, here I come!

Easter or bust

Meaning, it is my goal to submit my novel to #1 publisher on the list by Easter. I'm feverishly working on it at the moment, still changing out all the words I like to use all the time. Believe it or not, it's exhausting work. What I have got printed out and ready to go are: my letter, my synopsis and my title page. Yep, I'm very good at procrastinating with the fluffy stuff.

Better get back to it. One week to go!

Tyranny of words

Writers, do you ever start to hate words that you just can’t help using over and over again? Last week I finished polishing my synopsis and draft letter for my submission. This week all I am doing is referencing a plethora of thesauri as I strive to cut down on the usage of these words which seem to pour forth from me at alarmingly frequent intervals. Last night it was “comfort” and it’s derivatives: uncomfortable, comfortable, discomfort, etc etc. I couldn’t believe how many times I’ve used it in my manuscript. And I have a list of about 15 other offending words. Pleasant, easy, glad, anxious, amiable…. where will it all end? If it takes me about 5 hours to fix each word throughout my script, I’m going to be here all year.

I’m getting quite impatient to submit the darn thing. Feedback from friends hasn’t been as comprehensive as I had hoped, and I just kinda want to get it out there to see what happens. The other option I have is to apply for the Writer in Libraries programme which runs May-July (the deadline for applications is this Friday). This is a one-on-one mentoring opportunity. Do I still want to be working on my novel in July though? NO! My goal is to send if off by Easter.

P.S. It’s our second wedding anniversary on the 20th. We’re taking Monday and Tuesday off, and spending a long weekend in the Rotorua region. There’s a jazz festival on Saturday, so that should be cool. Can’t wait for Friday afternoon.

Amateur Critics

I have a bit of a dilemma with regards to my almost-finished manuscript. I have given it to a couple of my friends to read. I’m anxiously awaiting their opinions, but I recently read (in Gordon Wells’ “The Business of Writing”) advice from a writer stating that you shouldn’t look for criticism from those not in the business. I don’t know anyone in the business, so I’m wondering if I should just use my own judgement – which is of course very subjective – and submit to the first publisher on my list. I’m torn between just wanting to get the darn thing out there and wanting it to be perfect.

Does anyone have any thoughts on this?

Sending my baby off into the world

It’s a wild, fierce day. Even as I sit here in the office, the rain is bashing at the windows and the wind screams through any doors. The stairwell is dark, which only serves to increase my desire to get back to my bed and snooze. Apparently, the radio was warning this morning to remove anything from your backyard that could potentially be a missile. Oh yeah, did I mention it’s summer here in New Zealand? That’s slightly unfair; we haven’t had any real rain since December. I just wish it wouldn’t rain when I have to walk to work (from my car parked some distance away).

Now I’ll get to the real subject of this post. The ‘baby’ I speak of is my novel. On Sunday I worked on it fiercely, even foregoing a swim as it was then stiflingly hot. I made sure that I’d followed up on all my notes, and in between dinner at my parents’ I reconfigured the chapters. A final spell check, and after hitting the “ignore” button a hundred times I was finished. Then I emailed it off to a friend of mine who’s currently in England for a critique – a safe enough distance away that I won’t see him cringing through all of the sentimental passages. I’m really interested to hear what he has to say though, from an academic point of view.

Yesterday I printed it out, and late last night (après making cottage pie and banana cake) I managed to start reading it. I was shocked at the errors I found leaping off the page. Editing on screen is a world away from having all the pages side by side in front of you. In the early chapters, which granted I haven’t read in detail for quite some time, there were blatant inconsistencies and word repetition. How could this be? I wondered. How embarrassing. Just as well I did decide to do a hard copy check. Last night I also texted a local friend of mine who is an historical fiction fiend. She has also promised to give it the once over and comment. The copy she gets from me will be littered with edits and crossings-out, but oh well. I’m sure she’ll get the gist. I’m not going to print it out again until it’s the final copy.

I was very nervous about getting these people to read my story. No-one, not even my husband or mother, has even read a paragraph of it before. Being my first full-length work, I’m very wary of it being rubbish. I mean, how would I know? However, these two people have been so generous in assuring me they feel privileged to do the job, I feel a bit better about the whole thing. I just hope that I can take their feedback and criticism and use it to good effect. The outcome I’m dreading is that they highlight some weakness which I have no idea how to correct. Time will tell I suppose. For now I will continue my hard copy review and await the response of my first guinea pig. I’m also voraciously researching manuscript submission tips.

Oh yeah – my final word count was 102,500. So my original estimate a few years back of 100K wasn’t too far off.

100,000 words, baby!

100,001 to be precise. This feels like a significant milestone in the progress of my novel, even though it doesn’t really have anything to do with it being finished. But in my mind, it must be getting close. I’m filling in lots of fiddly little scenes, rounding off minor characters, and putting context around conversations. Doesn’t sound like hard work, but it is. When thousands of words were pouring out of me at the beginning of this process, I never dreamed it would be so hard. Perhaps last year’s New Year’s Resolution will be fulfilled this year (i.e. finishing said novel) and I won’t feel guilty all the time for not working on it all night, every night. And just maybe, a publisher somewhere might like it, and I might finally be able to call myself an author. But for now, I just need to finish it. It feels like I could do endless revisions, but I know at some point I will have to stop. Hopefully that point comes around sooner rather than later!

Head in the 18th Century

So I’m sitting here at work with my email, internet and word processor, sitting in a multi-level building with my car close by. My fingers tap and my mouse clicks, putting together next month’s internal newsletter. But my head is somewhere far away… in England, in the early 18th Century.

This is the setting for my novel, you see. The more I write, the more I find the need to research, reading bits of trivia and biography every chance I get. My manuscript is also open, but I know I won’t get time to really concentrate on it. Wishful thinking. My thoughts skip from our summer promotions to what it was like growing up on a country estate two hundred years ago.

It’s a challenge, this period writing and research. There are little details about life back then that you suddenly realise you know nothing about, and your sentence can never be complete until you track the wretched facts down. I also get bogged down in the research, getting more information than I need and procrastinating wildly while I read it all. Because right now I’m having to make hard decisions in my manuscript, and I don’t like it. Carefree inspiration has been replaced by hesitant editing. I’ve come so far; what if I screw it up now? The word count crawls painfully towards 91,000 as I tweak. Must concentrate when after dinner tonight. Must push through and get it done. Before the end of the year, I want to have a finished manuscript in my hands! … I will need to be a lot more disciplined if it’s going to happen.

First day jitters

I started my new job today, and consequently I got about 1 1/2 hours slept last night. That made absorbing all the information today a bit hard, but I think I did okay. The people seem nice. There's still a lot to learn as I haven't done any real work yet.

I was plagued with doubts this morning when I got a message on my cellphone voicemail about another job that I'd applied for, which would be permanent (the one I've taken is only 3 months) and might be more interesting. The flipside is that it's a little further away. I suppose I have no choice but to turn it down. It's so hard to know what to do... does anyone else battle with these issues?

Fifteen weeks to go, then. I'm going to make myself finish my novel before the contract is over, and also submit it to the first publisher on my list. I want to know if I have any hope of getting publishing before launching into anything long term again. *fingers crossed*

Nifty site for NZ readers and writers

I've just happened upon a site called Leaf Salon. It claims to have "the latest NZ book news, book reviews and literary events". It's a lovely looking site and it appears to have a really good mix of all of those elements, in blog form. Go have a look!