How is your Friday? Mine is as well as can be. The kids are playing at the Y, I've got a few hours free in which to write (and am wasting? it with blogging, I suppose). But I have to get the juices flowing somehow, and this is as good as any other way.
Recently, I sent off the first fifty pages of my second draft to my agent (Laura Rennert, who I whole-heartedly admire). It's in her queue, which makes me half anxious, half excited. You see, I think it's pretty good. Am I over-confident? Right-on? Blind? I won't know till she reads it and lets me know what she thinks. My critique partner likes it, and she's honest, so maybe it is good--for a second-draft.
And now, a glimpse inside Amber's head...
The Writer: Ugh. I have to write the next scene. Or the rest of this last scene. Can't remember exactly where I left off.
The Reader: But didn't you just write two days ago?
W: Yes. So?
R: And you've already forgotten?
W: No, I haven't forgotten. I remember exactly what happened. I just don't remember what I was feeling, exactly. I mean, I know what I was feeling...but the feeling isn't active within me at this moment. And how can I write without filling myself up with the same feeling as before? It'll be false. It'll be inconsistent.
R: First; you're really weird. Second; just re-read what you wrote last time, try to get yourself into the "mood," which is silly anyway, and then re-imaging what was going on, and what will happen. Like you always do.
W: Yes, I've always done it before, that way, but what if this time, it doesn't work? I'd have more success with Sudoku. Unless I get a really hard one. Then I have to cheat.
R: You are so pathetic. Listen. You've paid good money to have this time to write. You will burn in hell if you do sudoku instead.
W: So then what do I write?
R: The next scene.
W: *whine* But I don't know what happens next.
R: Yes you do. It already happened. You're going to re-tell it. Simple as that.
W: But this part is all new. It wasn't in the first draft.
R: It already happened. Re-tell it. Stop this silly blogging and Get. To. Work.
W: I guess we know now which one of us wanted to be the Air Force Officer.