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shalannaTearing ourselves away from those pictures, those endless pictures (although the crowd at the Interstate does look a little smaller, and I'm seeing some people getting the food and water drops from the copters) . . . I really need a bus. A magic bus.
ANYway. We're about to go on our first expedition. Geocaching. There's a cache close to here in a park just south of us. It's said to be on the north end of the bridge. I think this should be fun. My hubby has had NO interest in ANY hobbies except computer gaming (and spending money on computer upgrades and game stuff) for several years, since he kind of fell away from amateur radio (a slight problem with equipment being stolen, long story), and it has worried me. But I mentioned something about geocaching last week, because I had started a new novel where the main characters are geocaching, and he went crazy! Read the FAQ, started blathering about it to co-workers, getting info from them, researching GPS units, etc. I finally broke down and let him buy a midrange cheapie yesterday (although I kept saying I had printed stuff from MapQuest and we could try it to see if we liked it without spending money), and we're going off to find this cache. I stopped by the bubblegum/toy machines at the grocery store to get some trinkets to toss in. We also need to "sign" somehow and I need to scare up a logbook for us. Whee! This could be fun! In fact, even though it's hot, I know it will be a blast. And we both need the exercise.
After that, I'm going to call a few people and check on whether the buses have arrived in Dallas and when the church convoy plans to go down there. I need to sort out even more clothes and linens and stuff out of our overfilled closets. Hubby even donated three pairs of jeans (they look like new to me--he says they got too tight.) I suspect it'll be Sunday afternoon. Sunday night the telethon begins, and I need to see when I'm supposed to be on the phones and see whether someone needs a ride. If I'm not mistaken, North Texas Mensa will be headed down there early Monday, and that's the group I should be with. When will I find time to write?
But speaking of that, I've *finally* figured out why agents and editors have not been able to see what I was doing in the opening of my chick lit. They loved it, but they seemed not to know that Daphne has just "jinxed" herself (or she thinks she has.) I was way too subtle. I used to have a lot of narrative there to explain it, but then I heard that you should go right to action, and deleted most of the narrative. Well . . . I put back two paragraphs that come right out and say, "I think I hexed myself," and explain briefly. Then I sent the revised version to the writer who was trying to help me out, and she said, "Yes! That's it!" She also gave a suggestion for a subplot twist that I hadn't thought of. At first I thought it would be bad, because the character involved was supposed to be kind of a moral paragon, but then I realized that near the midpoint, it would be good for this hero to display some feet of clay. It only makes my poor little heroine more dejected. Which can only be good!
So I think maybe AT LAST we have discovered why Lois, Natasha, et alia said, "I don't see your developing premise." They didn't clue in at all because I didn't come out and TELL them this. I was trying to have them realize it on their own. But we are not writing literary fiction here--we're trying to write something that people will find an easy and fun read. Whoops! (GRIN) So hey, I sneaked in a couple of paragraphs of narrative, but I gained the trust of the reader. Now, says my writer friend, people will see the ensuing scenes in an entirely different light, and will see that I am going somewhere.
What have I done right to deserve this? It is too cool. This book deserves a chance!
But I feel guilty. What a hollow and ridiculous pursuit, when so many are on the streets suffering and actually dying. *gulp* On the other hand, you may be sure that these are all signs of the end times: apocalyptic flooding and hurricanes, the pilgrims being crushed and drowned off the Baghdad bridge, the dang war on terror and the terror itself, and MY FICTION FINALLY GETTING ON THE DESKS OF INTERESTED EDITORS. All are outrageously unlikely events that were not expected in our lifetime. All are signs of the end.
Just my luck. The world is coming to an end just as my big book is about to get published. Rot! 3@!##@!! So it goes.
ANYway. We're about to go on our first expedition. Geocaching. There's a cache close to here in a park just south of us. It's said to be on the north end of the bridge. I think this should be fun. My hubby has had NO interest in ANY hobbies except computer gaming (and spending money on computer upgrades and game stuff) for several years, since he kind of fell away from amateur radio (a slight problem with equipment being stolen, long story), and it has worried me. But I mentioned something about geocaching last week, because I had started a new novel where the main characters are geocaching, and he went crazy! Read the FAQ, started blathering about it to co-workers, getting info from them, researching GPS units, etc. I finally broke down and let him buy a midrange cheapie yesterday (although I kept saying I had printed stuff from MapQuest and we could try it to see if we liked it without spending money), and we're going off to find this cache. I stopped by the bubblegum/toy machines at the grocery store to get some trinkets to toss in. We also need to "sign" somehow and I need to scare up a logbook for us. Whee! This could be fun! In fact, even though it's hot, I know it will be a blast. And we both need the exercise.
After that, I'm going to call a few people and check on whether the buses have arrived in Dallas and when the church convoy plans to go down there. I need to sort out even more clothes and linens and stuff out of our overfilled closets. Hubby even donated three pairs of jeans (they look like new to me--he says they got too tight.) I suspect it'll be Sunday afternoon. Sunday night the telethon begins, and I need to see when I'm supposed to be on the phones and see whether someone needs a ride. If I'm not mistaken, North Texas Mensa will be headed down there early Monday, and that's the group I should be with. When will I find time to write?
But speaking of that, I've *finally* figured out why agents and editors have not been able to see what I was doing in the opening of my chick lit. They loved it, but they seemed not to know that Daphne has just "jinxed" herself (or she thinks she has.) I was way too subtle. I used to have a lot of narrative there to explain it, but then I heard that you should go right to action, and deleted most of the narrative. Well . . . I put back two paragraphs that come right out and say, "I think I hexed myself," and explain briefly. Then I sent the revised version to the writer who was trying to help me out, and she said, "Yes! That's it!" She also gave a suggestion for a subplot twist that I hadn't thought of. At first I thought it would be bad, because the character involved was supposed to be kind of a moral paragon, but then I realized that near the midpoint, it would be good for this hero to display some feet of clay. It only makes my poor little heroine more dejected. Which can only be good!
So I think maybe AT LAST we have discovered why Lois, Natasha, et alia said, "I don't see your developing premise." They didn't clue in at all because I didn't come out and TELL them this. I was trying to have them realize it on their own. But we are not writing literary fiction here--we're trying to write something that people will find an easy and fun read. Whoops! (GRIN) So hey, I sneaked in a couple of paragraphs of narrative, but I gained the trust of the reader. Now, says my writer friend, people will see the ensuing scenes in an entirely different light, and will see that I am going somewhere.
What have I done right to deserve this? It is too cool. This book deserves a chance!
But I feel guilty. What a hollow and ridiculous pursuit, when so many are on the streets suffering and actually dying. *gulp* On the other hand, you may be sure that these are all signs of the end times: apocalyptic flooding and hurricanes, the pilgrims being crushed and drowned off the Baghdad bridge, the dang war on terror and the terror itself, and MY FICTION FINALLY GETTING ON THE DESKS OF INTERESTED EDITORS. All are outrageously unlikely events that were not expected in our lifetime. All are signs of the end.
Just my luck. The world is coming to an end just as my big book is about to get published. Rot! 3@!##@!! So it goes.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-03 07:59 pm (UTC)The world is not coming to an end. Those who survive will need to be distracted. Some of them will use books as a way to stay sane. It's not a first-line defence, but it's important.
P.