The more I write, the less I like.

There comes a point in some of my books -- the ones I keep rewriting -- where I can no longer get a 'sense' of the story.  I can't see the whole.  I'm reduced to paragraphs at best, sentences and phrases and words.  I have to assume these small discrete changes are improving the book, but I can't be sure.

In other words, my objectivity (if I ever possessed such a thing) goes from the general to the discrete.

I've really been feeling that about NEARLY HUMAN for the last few weeks.  I'm copyediting now, after changing it from 1st person to 3rd person.  And my estimation of the writing goes up and down, depending on my mood, the context (what I've read recently) and so on.

At this point, all I can do is try to make each word count, and hope that the original story is still there.  Which points to how important the original story is -- because eventually I can't really see the story anymore.  Can't feel it.

I don't know if other writer's have this happen.  It's almost as if, the more I try to improve the story, the less I like it.  I have to remember that the end reader is probably having the opposite experience.  That the earlier efforts, which I enjoy writing, are probably lacking in detail and context, that it only in rewriting again and again that I bring those early heartfelt moments to life.

A big part of taking on the writing life again, is finding ways to forestall that moment of losing the sense of story for as long as possible.  Get the characters and story in place -- feel it as strongly as possible -- BEFORE I start extensive rewriting.  Then trust that the original story and characters are strong enough to withstand the constant whittling down, and beefing up.  Hold onto the freshness for as long as possible.

As I keep mentioning, I think a step I must start taking is thinking out the premises and ramifications of the story early on, so that I don't get surprised later and have to change everything. 

My new vampire story, for instance, I can already tell that I'm going to have to change some marvelous phrasing in the first couple of pages because they contradict what I'm trying to do.  So I make the adjustments now, so I have to less changing in the future.

My backward wife.

Linda and I were watching a documentary on Leonardo Da Vinci, and it mentioned his backward writing journals.  Linda says,  "Hey, I think I can do that!"

And then proceeds to prove it! 

Just like that.  It's easy for her! 

Makes my head hurt.  I'm finding notes all over the house written in backward script, which I have to take to the mirror to read.

"Big surprise," I said to her tonight.  "You think backwards.

"It's enough to put me off my appetite!"

So Kevin was in telling me that my blog was freaking him out.

"You're smiling face, man. So early in the morning..."

"Too much?"

"It's enough to put me off my appetite!'

I sort of agree.  I think I may take the picture off.

Subconscious to Duncan -- start writing.

After taking a break from writing for the holidays, I woke very early this morning with a fully developed scene in my head.  Not just the scene, but the actual words -- in order, specific order.  A scene that I'd had no inkling of before I went to sleep.

A vampire story, which isn't a story I would have chosen to tell.  The first chapter is entitled: Empty Mirrors. 

I tossed and turned for a few minutes, thinking I'd put it off until normal waking time, but the words were just too clear.  While I might remember the scene, I wasn't likely the remember the words.

So I got up and wrote them down.  Probably had 50 words when I started, and by the time I fleshed out the scene, it turned into 361 words.

In the back of my brain, it's telling me the title of the story is:  LAST DAY OF THE IMMORTAL.


That was fun.  Fulfilling.   As I always say, I love this part of writing.  The creative discovery, the flow of words.  I swore I wouldn't start a story without thinking it out first, but how could I turn down this offering?

Maybe it won't go anywhere.  Maybe it will peter out.  But as long as it keeps coming to me, I'll keep writing it.  I've got a second scene shaping up in my head.

Apparently, my subconscious wasn't satisfied with tinkering with NEARLY HUMAN for another month or two.  It demanded something new.

I'm thinking it might be another blog novel, like FREEDY.  Something I write for the pure fun of it, try not to overthink or overwrite, not push it, just a quick and fun read.

But I think I'll get a few chapters in before I start posting, just to make sure it isn't a one-up.

Getting the networking right -- or don't do it.

Gail Simone who's an established writer for DC comics -- currently Batgirl -- was in the store yesterday.  I think she and her family come in once or twice a year.   They live over on the coast.

I was talking to another customer about my books, and didn't realize she and her husband were in the store,  so they acted surprised that I was actually writing.  (I'm sure I probably mentioned it before -- but maybe not.  Big difference between writing currently and having "once wrote".) 

I mentioned my blog which gets about 250 hits a day -- but which I'm pretty sure about 200 of those are accidental.  She casually mentioned her 70,000 followers.  (She was kind enough not to mention it in contrast -- it came up later in the conversation.)

Anyway, it's always interesting to talk to a working writer -- to get a sense of it, how they go about it, how they feel the market works and so on.

She did a successful Kickstarter recently.

There is just this "connectivity" thing that I think successful artists have -- a way of communicating with their fans, a way of networking -- that I just don't have, and probably never will.

It reminds me of the conferences and conventions and internet marketing (before that mail-order).  I've tried all these things more than once -- early in my career especially.  And I found I just didn't have the knack -- whatever it is.  No way to introduce myself without being awkward

I read once that getting on the media to promote your work is the best thing ever -- except if you make a bad impression.  That is actually worse than not being out there at all.

I'm not saying I would make a necessarily 'bad' impression, only that it doesn't come easy for me.  I make wrong choices -- just slightly.  Just a little off.  And without that ability to get it right, I've found I'm better off just staying myself.  Even if it means being the lone wolf.

Official Burglar Contract.

Someone sent me a Burglar contract display between Thorin and Company and Freedy Filkins.
No name attached to whoever sent it -- thanks!  (Not sure of Thorin's dad's name...)

"In role as BURGLAR for Thorin and Company, 
or in any other role they see fit,
at their sole discretion
from time to time.

Signed:  Thorin son of Girain

Witnessed: Balin son of Fundin

Burglar:  Freedy Filkins."

Wonderfully casual day.

Met the New Year with my cat, Panga, hiding under my futon at my feet because of the loud noises.  Linda was already asleep.  I avoided alcohol because I'm working Wednesday and Thursday.

We went to see Les Miserables in the morning -- you know what a tearjerker is?  A movie that jerks tears out of you.  I keep thinking one of these days that I'm going to stuff my pocket with Kleenex and whip it out like a hero when Linda starts sobbing.  She was crying about 5 minutes into the movie.  Oh, oh.

My eyes kept watering the whole movie -- especially at the end.  Must have been some irritant in the air... Ate some pizza at Papa's pizza -- out of nostalgia for the once a week pizza fest that Dad and us used to go to.  We informed them about Dad, and they said, "we figured." 

Went shopping for a couple of belts, and shampoo.  Meery Cristmassss.

Watched a couple of episodes of Homeland -- "oh, I can't believe they went there..."

Dreamed all night of elegant solutions to all the problems in my book -- woke up this morning not remembering any of them...