Tag: Progress

bookmark_borderHard at Work

Posted on by PaulaO

Honest, I am. Simple Sarah, the novel I’ve been working on (and finished twice) is over 43,000 words. I am still on track to get it done by the end of March, editing in April, and submitted in May. That is my goal. I want to finish it with no less than 90K but hopefully over 100K.

I like this version the best. I think it has finally come together. I’ve gotten rid of a lot of the side-threads and just concentrated on the MC, Sarah. This also feels so much more like a Fantasy rather than a Romance which was my goal.

Once Simple Sarah is submitted, I will pound out another Butch Girl book. Either Harri’s or Nikki’s story. They are so intertwined, I am tempted to do just one book. But I don’t think that would be fair to the reader. Harri’s book has to take place in the summer. No choice there. Nikki’s can take place at any time.

(thinking, so there will be smoke….)

Perhaps do Harri’s and end it in the Fall then do Nikki’s immediately after. It would mean, however, that Harri’s book would have to be read first. There’s a Great Something that links them together that is solved in Harri’s book. So to read Nikki’s first….I dunno. Hell, gotta finish Sarah’s story before I even get to theirs!

So, if you have been following along, that means I have a goal to finish and submit three books this year. Sarah’s will be submitted in May. One or the other of the BG books will be submitted in July/August and the other November. By then, the editing process (that is assuming Regal Crest will buy it) for Sarah should start shortly after that.

bookmark_borderScreeching to a Halt

Posted on by PaulaO

After many days of words just flowing off my fingertips (2000-4500 word days!), they are now non-existent (38-44 word days). Yesterday I struggled with a single paragraph and got nowhere. Every time I did a word count, it was less than the last one! Today, I got that one done, only to be stumped by the next one. I am this close (…) to just chucking the scene and moving on.

And I would if I had a clue where I was going.

bookmark_borderWriting Words

Posted on by PaulaO

It’s not easy most of the time, ya know. There’s sentence structure (sentence diagramming used to be so fun in high school! not so much now); there’s grammar (dangling participle sounds kinda kinky, don’t it?); there’s plot (that elusive thing that carries the book from Chapter One to The End); and then there’s such oddities as character, setting, climax (speaking of kink…) and genre.

But despite all that (and more) I really really love being an author. I want to write. I want to take that dreamworld I’ve invented in my head and make it real enough in words on paper that you, someone not in my head (thank god!) can see it too.

I’m working on too many things again. One day I feel like working on Simple Sarah (the piece I’ve been working on for FIVE years) or Sleep (formerly called Exodus, my ’09 NaNoWriMo project) or, as I discovered today, I feel like working on a Butch Girl novel (of which there are 3 in progress) (yes, three). Then there is Wayback. I want to revive it for my niece while she is young enough to enjoy it. And then there’s the short stories I really ought to find a publication for.

It feels good to be writing again. It is like meeting an old friend and chatting about all the stupid stuff we did in college.

bookmark_borderTeaser

Posted on by PaulaO

I’m writing again. Started working on Harri and Liz’s story, aka BG3, aka “Butch Girls and Stereotypes”. Yes, another damn romance. Here’s the beginning:

Liz Marsh refused to cry. Closing and taping shut the last box would make her cry. She could feel it. Her cheeks hurt. Her eyes burned. No words were capable of coming out of her mouth. Not happening. Unless she cried. That wasn’t happening either. She’d not cried when he’d died. She’d not cried at the funeral service or at the graveside. She’d heard whispers of how brave she was and others saying she just was a cold bitch.

She sat on the edge of the desk and picked up the picture frame closest to her. The photograph was of a small girl—herself–holding a cane fishing pole in one hand and the line with the six pound catfish in the other. She put the photo down and picked up the next one. It was of herself and an older man sitting at a table outdoors. It was at one of the church homecomings or something. Her grandfather was laughing and pointing at the pile of chicken bones next to Liz’s plate.

God how she missed him.

She clutched the photo to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut.

It’s not like he died suddenly. The cancer had been draining Tobias Marsh dry for a while, the last six months being the hardest. He had died at last, his body a ravaged husk, just two weeks ago. With him had died a huge chunk of Liz’s reason for living. She clutched the photograph in a half-hearted attempt to hold what was left of her together.

“Told you it was too soon to be dealing with this mess.” Someone spoke from the doorway.

Now she could cry.

bookmark_borderBG2

Posted on by PaulaO

BG2 is, actually, BG1 since it was started first. But BG1 became BGCFA because it was finished first. There is also a BG3 and BG4 already started. BG2 now sits at 38291 words, just 51709 words short of its final goal of 90K. Why do I do this to myself? Why do I do the math like that? “Just 51709 words short”…shit, who am I kidding? It might was well be 100709.

Yeah, I’m having faith issues. Faith in my ability to write a novel well enough to justify it being 90K words. I don’t like padding a novel (adding in stuff just for the sake of adding to the word total) but I am not above adding in scenes that further the story along while at the same time it pushes it toward the word count goal. Hell, at this point, I just want to reach 60K. Way short of the goal, but at that point, the story is either sinking or swimming. 30K is where I usually falter on a story which is why I have so many at that point. At 60K, I am heading down the hill toward the finish either in a good way or just wanting to get the damn thing finished.

Kinda like a bad date. You don’t care what happens, just as long as you can get the date over and get home before you poke your eyes or ears out.

BG2 doesn’t even have a freakin’ title. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with it. BG1 started as a title and exploded from there. BG3 has a title but I really want to get this one done first. Bless its heart, it keeps getting pushed to the bottom of the pile. BG2 is about Nikki Rogers and Ellen Hess who meet on line and start an “intentional” relationship. In what I have so far, they’ve just loaded Ellen and her stuff to move down to High Pond, NC. Now the story shifts away from “will we/won’t we” to “pick up your socks”. BG1 was furthered along with various misunderstandings because no one trusted anyone else, not really. This book is more about facing things head on and dealing with them face to face, not letting something simmer.

Any ideas for a title? So far I have “Butch Girls Can Fix Anything”, “Butch Girls and Stereotypes”, and “Butch Girls, Barbecues, and Babes” (although that one isn’t started yet, just running around in my head). Several folks have commented that they really don’t like the “Butch Girls” words so I am considering dropping that sort of. But hell, I gotta write the damn things first, right?

So, I’ll need beta readers soon. Folks who can tolerate romance and give feedback other than “I loved it!!!”. No timeline yet, but soon.

bookmark_borderWord Count Reasons

Posted on by PaulaO

For those who don’t know, my word counts can be high because, well, I have no life.

I don’t work. I don’t have a hubby to clean/cook/prepare for. My wife/spouse/partner does our cooking, laundry day is on Friday and I bathe every Saturday, whether I need it or not. We don’t have kids but we do have dogs and cats, all of which take care of themselves except for the twice a day feeding rituals they make us do.

With so little obligations, my time is more open than you normal folk who have jobs, like to cook and clean, have children, care about your appearance, stuff like that. You know, have normal lives.

So please, don’t be envious or jealous. Don’t admire me for my skills in putting out a high count of crappy words. And please, don’t wish you were me.

‘Cause sometimes, I think I just might take you up on that.

***

PS: Don’t think I am strong, or brave, or admirable. I’m not. I’m just doing what I can with what I got.