Writer’s Desk, 5/17/16

Caution: creaky writer hobbling through. Make way, make way for the woman with the ice pack!

Out the window: A high overcast, with occasional glaring sunshine and less-occasional droplets of falling rain. High humidity making everything feel like wilted lettuce–underwater wilted lettuce. Still and all, a good day for staying inside, ensconced at a comfy desk, and writing.

On the desktop: A blueberry-cardamom scone (we went blueberry picking over the weekend) and a cup of my very special tea–Mariage Freres “French Breakfast.” You can’t put that scone with just any old tea, of course, so I broke into the “good” stuff.

Today’s Work-in-Progess: I’ve taken up Book One in the Jessamin Stow trilogy and have started hacki– um, I mean editing it thoroughly. Not just a “clean up the rough bits” edit, but a hey, this whole bit here is wrong, and the structure is leaning and ready to collapse over here, while this bit is so overwrought it could support three books by itself kind of edit. Structure, pacing, revelations–all of it’s going under the knife. It’s amazing what a couple months’ distance will show you.

And while some of it is cringe-inducing (yes, really. But who doesn’t cringe at their writing errors–in hindsight, they’re so obvious), I’m still really, really enamored with the characters, the story, and the way I see it all evolving into something lovely. One day I’ll get to share it with you. Right now, I get to keep on editing. I get to savor the characters, hugging them to myself before I offer them more hardship and misery to work their way through. And I can’t wait until I see how they end up, after it’s all over.

And Another Thing: Why the fancy tea and indulgent scone, you ask? Because I’m treating myself for putting up with aches and ouches, scrapes and bruises. Yesterday I “bounced” off our paver-surround fire pit, and while today I’m no longer bloody, I am incredibly sore. To coddle myself into putting on my brave face, I’m pulling out the “good stuff,” tea- and treat-wise. It’s working, too. I don’t feel nearly as sorry for myself as I would without them. (And yes, the story of why I bounced off the fire pit is one of idiocy and farce all the way around, so no, I’m absolutely not going to share it. Suffice it to say it involves our version of “Hey y’all, watch this!” And I should know better by now.)