The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible - Vladimir Nabokov

There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside you - Zora Neale Hurston

20 August 2009


Winter is losing its grasp on Oz. I slept with the window open last night, ah fresh air! It also feels like I'm coming out of hibernation, recovering from writing my first book, related synopses, query letters etc. It has been anything but a restful sleep, however. I've been reading books on the first five pages (and other topics) to get some ideas for trapping one of those snarly, Tasmanian devil-like agents. All that stuff is percolating in my subconscious along with a chapter 1 rewrite, notes jumping out onto the page of their own accord from time to time.

In order to let my subconscious do its work, I've plowed ahead with my second book and I'm now 70 pages in. Almost 1/3 of the way through the first draft, wow. Sometimes I think it's writing itself. It's very different from my first book, which was supernatural suspense. This one's fantasy detective, with a man-hating/man-loving heroine, and I'm reveling in the snappy dialogue, fast pace and custom built world. There's elves and dwarfs and a few other recognisable species--to make it fun--but all with my own twist. I even have some scenes in mind for another, very different, epic fantasy to follow this one.

I've read that, on average, it is an author's 5th or 6th book that finally gets published. I'm not just going to spew out crap to meet that quota, though--I want everything I write to be the best it can be. It's the only way to learn. Nose going back to the grindstone now...

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