I suspect it is an industry standard: the 250, 150, and 50 word synopsis. It may be that some authors, occupying celestial strata I can only dream of, have a publisher’s marketing department write these. I don’t know, I have to do it myself.
A moment’s digression before I begin: Happy Birthday Bilbo and Frodo! I wonder, on this wet and drizzly first day of autumn if Tolkien deliberately chose the fall equinox for the Baggins’ joint birthday. Perhaps it was a question of age, both hobbits having entered their autumnal years, if you will, before embarking on their adventures. I don’t know. Any suggestions, readers?
I enjoyed a quiet, uneventful weekend. I really can’t complain. After a morning’s work on the sequel to Karl Thorson and the Jade Dagger (look for it in mid-November from Twilight Times) I took MBW and the HA up to a friend’s cabin on the river, near Mt. Hood. And there was much relaxing.
MBW and the HA gave me a unique Father’s Day gift this year: quiet time. MBW drove the HA to California for a week’s visit to visit grandparents. The HA will get some camping in, MBW will get some work done. And I get a week at home of quiet and sleeping in.
My family loves me.
I have a tentative release schedule for Karl Thorson and the Jade Dagger of mid-November. And that means editing. What fun.
I had a party at my house last night, a triple celebration: my fiftieth birthday, the tenth anniversary of my marriage to MBW, and MBW’s U.S. citizenship. The house echoed at times with the play of what seemed a hundred children, but couldn’t have been more than a half dozen. At the end of the night we discovered that a glutinous jar of pink slime, some sort of kid’s plaything, had been ground into the HA’s carpet. While a few remaining adults got down to cleaning that up (it turns out ice cubes are useful in that regard — helpful tip for you) I went back downstairs to pack up leftovers and load the dishwasher. The aftermath of the party.
Naturally, that got me thinking about war. Specifically the aftermath, the cleanup. And more specifically, how fantasy novels tend to deal with (or not deal with) the aftermath of the epic battles that fill their pages.
Editing hurts. If sculpting is removing all the bits of marble that aren’t the statue, then editing is cutting away all the words that aren’t the story. Except the sculptor didn’t create that block of marble first; someone else delivered it to his studio. When I’m editing I’m modifying something I’ve already gone to the trouble of creating.
Sometimes those modifications are easy. “What the hell was I thinking? That makes no sense and contradicts what something that comes later.” Slash, gone. Or revised to fit. Other times the process is more difficult. It might be a particularly good scene. Or it provides greater insight into a character. Or I happen to find it clever and amusing. But is it necessary?
Shortly before noon yesterday I finally completed the first draft of Warlord. Needless to say, this pleased me. I looked forward to celebrating. But life does not give a damn about my desires. Instead of celebrating, I was laid low by whatever malady my daughter has been suffering since Thursday.
So, if you’ll forgive me, I’m going to stop writing this and crawl back into bed.
It ought to be clear by this point that I will not have a book out in January. We can all agree on that, right? So, how do matters stand on the writing front? Let me tell you.
Advice from a man who probably has no business giving advice: Remain grateful but beware contentment. There, that ought to cover Thanksgiving.
MBW, the HA, and I drove to the Oregon Coast Wednesday for an extended Thanksgiving weekend. The weather was appropriately Oregon Coast-ish: wet and windy, though we did enjoy occasional sun breaks.