Still on that chapter

And I have been writing.

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It’s just that this is a fight scene, and one I am rewriting from a new character’s POV. So I’m not just fixing up the fight, but rewriting big chunks of it because Barb wouldn’t know what a trained warrior would. It’s exhausting, mentally.

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It’s one thing to switch POV between characters with a similar background, but it’s a lot more work to use a novice in any scene. While I appreciate the opportunity for natural exposition and world building, my brain hurts after a few paragraphs because I have to translate actions into an alien mentality.

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I’m reading a few paragraphs and then taking a few hours to process how Barb would interpret those actions. Then I have to edit and rewrite and find the right transition.

Or decide that Barb wouldn’t have the faintest clue what’s going on, and then rewrite around that revelation.

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And it’s going well, more or less. I’m hoping it will speed up once the action starts in earnest. Most of the scene setting stuff just needs pronoun changes, and Barb is only starting to come into her own, so she can observe actions; she doesn’t have to be a part of them. Which means I have to change a few lines and add her reactions. Hopefully. As long as I don’t change my mind, again.

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So, I’m moving right along, if more slowly than I thought. But it’s the story that’s being slow, not me. I’m writing. Which is a good thing. I like being writing. I am braining the words so hard. So hard the braining. Such words.

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Sorry, I have to get back to my book.

 

The abyss is staring back

So I’ve been not so much rewriting as rearranging Red Witch. No new scenes, just a new timeline for scenes. Occasionally, I switch POV or squash a few together, or extend something, but nothing new. Until today.

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I knew this was coming. After all, the point of this rearrangement is that I needed more action sequences. The problem is that now the ephemeral ideas of “Oh I could do something like…” have to become actual words on the page.

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This is where novellas call me again. I love epics. And I want to write one. But the balancing act is much harder for 100,000 words. This takes work, not the typing, but the braining. I have to choreograph fight scenes. My few lessons in stage fighting does not cover battlefield tactics for specialized fighters.  This is work.

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And once I get the action down, it’s not finished. No, that process is just begun. The scene I rough out over the next few days–

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Fine… WEEKS.

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So many hours of Sims are coming… so much procrastination….

ANYWAY.

 

Those rough fight scenes are just the beginning. They will have to be edited and refined. They will likely be way too long or too short. It’s not unusual for authors of epics to take years to write a single draft.

And there’s that abyss again. The years of work on something that I have no intention of publishing until I finish the series. Six books, one finished, one in pieces, one started, one drafted, two theoretical concepts. Each a minimum of 100,000 words. Each focused on a different genre. All intricate pieces of a puzzle. All taking a minimum of three years to write, in total, if the first one is any indication.

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Some days I do wonder if it’s worth it.

Then I find myself plotting dialogue between Brenda and Edie. Or I see Marley tuning his guitar… and I open scrivener and stare back.

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