Well, I went and done it. I have submitted the entire manuscript of Michael Drayton, Detective Guy to an independent publisher. Since they wisely give no guidelines on how long it takes them to get through the slush pile, I have no true idea how long I'll have to wait to hear back. And that's fine.
Now I can put it aside in my mind and let the Fates take up the load.
In the meantime, I will be concentrating on my non-Drayton novel, Such Is Life. And I've started seriously thinking about the second Drayton tome. As pertinent thoughts occur to me about that, I'll post them here.
And now we wait.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Retrenching
I wrote yesterday's post in the midst of many strains, including work on a chapter of Drayton that, while working well in some regards, didn't have the right feel. What bothered me about the revised Chapter One wasn't that the work was bad as much as that it wasn't fitting in with the existing book as well as I had hoped. It was becoming apparent that, in order to make this one chapter work, the whole book would have to be revised extensively, and I was not yet comfortable with that notion.
It's not that the book as a whole doesn't needed revision. I'm sure it does. It's just that, whatever its value, whatever its weaknesses and strengths, it does not, I think, need to become an entirely different book. Any revisions should further explore the thing that it is, should iron out as many of the bumps and creases as my talent will allow, should shine light in the corners that are now dark.
And so, mostly on instinct, I have put that revision on hold.
However, I do have a new plan in place. I will continue to market the manuscript as it is, only I will stop sending it to agents and start sending it to independent publishers. The aspects of Drayton that turn off agents--the mixture of literary with genre fiction, the length, the humor--might actually turn out to be strengths when being read by an editor. The only way to find out for sure is to try.
And it is not the end of the fragment recently written. It strikes me that, with a few amendations, it would work as part of the second Drayton novel. That story will intertwine investigations that Drayton performs for a wealthy, reclusive eccentric, a certain C.F. Dudley, with work he performs for a local TV news vixen who is concerned about a stalker.
I think these are the right moves to make, although I have been wrong many times in the past, may be now, and most certainly will be again in the future. All you can do is stumble forward as best you can.
It's not that the book as a whole doesn't needed revision. I'm sure it does. It's just that, whatever its value, whatever its weaknesses and strengths, it does not, I think, need to become an entirely different book. Any revisions should further explore the thing that it is, should iron out as many of the bumps and creases as my talent will allow, should shine light in the corners that are now dark.
And so, mostly on instinct, I have put that revision on hold.
However, I do have a new plan in place. I will continue to market the manuscript as it is, only I will stop sending it to agents and start sending it to independent publishers. The aspects of Drayton that turn off agents--the mixture of literary with genre fiction, the length, the humor--might actually turn out to be strengths when being read by an editor. The only way to find out for sure is to try.
And it is not the end of the fragment recently written. It strikes me that, with a few amendations, it would work as part of the second Drayton novel. That story will intertwine investigations that Drayton performs for a wealthy, reclusive eccentric, a certain C.F. Dudley, with work he performs for a local TV news vixen who is concerned about a stalker.
I think these are the right moves to make, although I have been wrong many times in the past, may be now, and most certainly will be again in the future. All you can do is stumble forward as best you can.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Blocked
I've gotten stuck in the rewriting of Drayton, and I find myself lost. I have no idea what I'm doing or why. I suspect that I should hold off again, step back, and reconsider. Put it aside for a year or more and let it fester. See how it comes out once I've forgotten it.
I think I should almost certainly start over and rethink and refine every aspect of the book, every page, every paragraph, every sentence, every word.
But we'll see. Currently, I'm feeling pretty low and frustrated generally. that's not the proper time to make these sorts of decisions. However, I think I will put the project on hold while I sort myself out. That's only fair to the work. It's better to do nothing than to do it an injury.
I think I should almost certainly start over and rethink and refine every aspect of the book, every page, every paragraph, every sentence, every word.
But we'll see. Currently, I'm feeling pretty low and frustrated generally. that's not the proper time to make these sorts of decisions. However, I think I will put the project on hold while I sort myself out. That's only fair to the work. It's better to do nothing than to do it an injury.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
The Beginning Is Begun
For the first four days, the new version dragged. I had a couple of hundred words that I was fiddling with, but little real progress. And then, yesterday, the sluice opened. words started coming out in groups. You never know how long a good period like this will last, but I don't feel dry this morning. In fact, I've already added a couple of more word groups.
My current goal is to get through about 50 pages, which is the sample length most often requested by agents. I don't have a deadline in mind, other than getting it done as quickly as I can while doing a decent job of it. Once I have a big enough chunk to market the manuscript with, I can resume my sales effort. But we'll see what happens between now and when I get there.
My current goal is to get through about 50 pages, which is the sample length most often requested by agents. I don't have a deadline in mind, other than getting it done as quickly as I can while doing a decent job of it. Once I have a big enough chunk to market the manuscript with, I can resume my sales effort. But we'll see what happens between now and when I get there.
Friday, September 19, 2008
A New Beginning
There has been something nagging at me ever since I finished the current draft of Michael Drayton, Detective Guy. As the previous rewrite proceeded, I abandoned any pretense of trying to write a funny novel and started just writing a regular novel. And as I crept along, I discovered that the book I was writing was developing in literary terms, and while still readable as simply a story, it had also become a serious novel.
Which is all well and fine, except that this evolution of the book took place gradually. And that means that the first part of the book is written completely differently than the rest of it. The opening four or five chapters were still rooted in parody and comedy while the succeeding chapters, while occasionally amusing, were far more straight forward and real.
Therefore, I've started work on Drayton 4.0. the first paragraph of the first chapter came off the assembly line yesterday. I'm uncertain as to whether I'll continue marketing it while I rewrite or whether I'll just advise any agents I contact that it is receiving further revisions. I think I read somewhere that you can do that.
Anyway, this is a complete reimagining of the beginning. So much will be changed that it might not even seem to be the beginning of the same book. However, these new chapters will lead up to and link with the existing more serious chapters of the book, which also get a brush up over time. I am not expecting them to change this radically, though.
Some day I hope to be finished writing this book, but you never know until you get there.
Which is all well and fine, except that this evolution of the book took place gradually. And that means that the first part of the book is written completely differently than the rest of it. The opening four or five chapters were still rooted in parody and comedy while the succeeding chapters, while occasionally amusing, were far more straight forward and real.
Therefore, I've started work on Drayton 4.0. the first paragraph of the first chapter came off the assembly line yesterday. I'm uncertain as to whether I'll continue marketing it while I rewrite or whether I'll just advise any agents I contact that it is receiving further revisions. I think I read somewhere that you can do that.
Anyway, this is a complete reimagining of the beginning. So much will be changed that it might not even seem to be the beginning of the same book. However, these new chapters will lead up to and link with the existing more serious chapters of the book, which also get a brush up over time. I am not expecting them to change this radically, though.
Some day I hope to be finished writing this book, but you never know until you get there.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
High Notes
So far, Drayton has been rejected by a handful of agents. That's not a big deal. All you can do is to keep shopping it until you find the agent or publisher who's on the right wave length, something which, I suspect, involves some level of luck. The right person has to come across it on the right day. And the more that you send your proposal out, the better the chances are that you'll come across the right person.
There's something to that "making your own luck" stuff.
Now, not all rejections are equal. Sometimes you get a form, if you mailed your submission, or some copy-and-pasted standard text, if you submitted electronically. And that's fine. That sort of rejection is not especially meaningful in any direction. You wrote something and they didn't want it. Fair enough.
On occasion--and it's an occasion that's becoming more and more frequent in my case--the rejection comes in the form of a personal note. This is a step up, first of all because you know that your stuff got some serious level of consideration. There had to be at least one glittering moment when the person evaluating the work thought "This might have possibilities." And, if you can get somebody to go that far, you just might be able to get the next person to go further.
At the least, it is encouraging.
I received just such a rejection from an agent this past weekend, and I took a chance and emailed him to thank him for his consideration and to ask him a couple of questions so that I could properly approach the rewrite I had started to realize was in order. In his response to that--and I really have to thank this guy some day--he noted "that the tone wasn't really hitting the high notes" in his opinion. Now, I had only sent him the first five chapters, and the high notes don't really start cropping up until Chapter Six.
I've thought it over, and three things occur to me. First, the opening chapters need a major rewrite in order to bring the tone in line with the rest of the manuscript. Second, while I'm at it, I might as well brush up the whole thing. And third, I have to approach this as being more than just a mystery. I need to turn Michael Drayton, Detective Guy into a great book.
Louis Armstrong used to get into challenges with other trumpeters at jam sessions, and he would rip off 200 high Cs in a row. I can do the same thing and need to.
What's holding this book back are the remnants of parody left from the early versions of the story. It's time to bury those for good. Right now, I'm ruminating. I'm hoping to start writing by the end of the week.
There's something to that "making your own luck" stuff.
Now, not all rejections are equal. Sometimes you get a form, if you mailed your submission, or some copy-and-pasted standard text, if you submitted electronically. And that's fine. That sort of rejection is not especially meaningful in any direction. You wrote something and they didn't want it. Fair enough.
On occasion--and it's an occasion that's becoming more and more frequent in my case--the rejection comes in the form of a personal note. This is a step up, first of all because you know that your stuff got some serious level of consideration. There had to be at least one glittering moment when the person evaluating the work thought "This might have possibilities." And, if you can get somebody to go that far, you just might be able to get the next person to go further.
At the least, it is encouraging.
I received just such a rejection from an agent this past weekend, and I took a chance and emailed him to thank him for his consideration and to ask him a couple of questions so that I could properly approach the rewrite I had started to realize was in order. In his response to that--and I really have to thank this guy some day--he noted "that the tone wasn't really hitting the high notes" in his opinion. Now, I had only sent him the first five chapters, and the high notes don't really start cropping up until Chapter Six.
I've thought it over, and three things occur to me. First, the opening chapters need a major rewrite in order to bring the tone in line with the rest of the manuscript. Second, while I'm at it, I might as well brush up the whole thing. And third, I have to approach this as being more than just a mystery. I need to turn Michael Drayton, Detective Guy into a great book.
Louis Armstrong used to get into challenges with other trumpeters at jam sessions, and he would rip off 200 high Cs in a row. I can do the same thing and need to.
What's holding this book back are the remnants of parody left from the early versions of the story. It's time to bury those for good. Right now, I'm ruminating. I'm hoping to start writing by the end of the week.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
It's Out
Well, yesterday, I put my new and improved proposal into the mail to an agent who specializes in crime fiction. I am cautiously optimistic.
It's a strange thing, sending manuscripts out. It's this endless, elongated version of qualifying for a loan. You make your presentation, try to beef up your qualifications as best you can, and wait for some stranger to pass judgment on your worth to society. If the answer is rejection, you try again elsewhere. Eventually, you just go to a relative to see if they have an extra twenty.
Not this time, though. I've been quietly accumulating more credits. The manuscript--the collateral, if you will--is in the best shape its been. My cover letter and synopsis are light years better than they were. And this is all you can do: hone. Small credits are better than no credits. They build into medium sized ones that become humongo ones if you have talent and luck.
I've also learned something about myself in recent months, recognized a flaw in my character. It is an old one, deeply embedded, and it has hindered me in many areas of my life over the years. My problem is this: I have a tendency to try too hard. It used to hold me back when I tried to woo women, and I only was able to lasso my dear sweet wife because I had pretty much given up on finding someone and because we got to know each other over a period of a few months without the pressure of possible romance impinging itself on us.
Well, getting ahead in a career such as writing is a lot like starting a romance, and I think that I was always the guy who tried too hard, who made too many grand gestures, who forgot how to relax and be himself. I was always trying to write The Greatest Cover Letter of All Time, riddled with jokes that I had tried too hard to think up. In fact, the desire to insert jokes by force when necessary held back the quality of my work as well. I wasn't writing to my true potential because I would spend entire days trying to come up with a single funny line. And the work always showed, I'm afraid.
Now, this is not to say that I'm not a funny writer. Funny things occur to me spontaneously all the time. And the spontaneous ones are usually better, funnier, and more original than the ones I spend days thinking up. And the non-joke that I put in place of the day-long effort works more fluently and smoothly and allows me to do little tricks with language and with character development and dialog. And by hiding these goodies amidst the humor, I can be literary without highlighting it with neon signs and a bright orange sticker on my forehead.
At least that's the hope.
In the end, I'd be happy just entertaining people. It matters not whether readers find any deeper depths or not. It only matters to me that I work. And that I not try too hard.
It's a strange thing, sending manuscripts out. It's this endless, elongated version of qualifying for a loan. You make your presentation, try to beef up your qualifications as best you can, and wait for some stranger to pass judgment on your worth to society. If the answer is rejection, you try again elsewhere. Eventually, you just go to a relative to see if they have an extra twenty.
Not this time, though. I've been quietly accumulating more credits. The manuscript--the collateral, if you will--is in the best shape its been. My cover letter and synopsis are light years better than they were. And this is all you can do: hone. Small credits are better than no credits. They build into medium sized ones that become humongo ones if you have talent and luck.
I've also learned something about myself in recent months, recognized a flaw in my character. It is an old one, deeply embedded, and it has hindered me in many areas of my life over the years. My problem is this: I have a tendency to try too hard. It used to hold me back when I tried to woo women, and I only was able to lasso my dear sweet wife because I had pretty much given up on finding someone and because we got to know each other over a period of a few months without the pressure of possible romance impinging itself on us.
Well, getting ahead in a career such as writing is a lot like starting a romance, and I think that I was always the guy who tried too hard, who made too many grand gestures, who forgot how to relax and be himself. I was always trying to write The Greatest Cover Letter of All Time, riddled with jokes that I had tried too hard to think up. In fact, the desire to insert jokes by force when necessary held back the quality of my work as well. I wasn't writing to my true potential because I would spend entire days trying to come up with a single funny line. And the work always showed, I'm afraid.
Now, this is not to say that I'm not a funny writer. Funny things occur to me spontaneously all the time. And the spontaneous ones are usually better, funnier, and more original than the ones I spend days thinking up. And the non-joke that I put in place of the day-long effort works more fluently and smoothly and allows me to do little tricks with language and with character development and dialog. And by hiding these goodies amidst the humor, I can be literary without highlighting it with neon signs and a bright orange sticker on my forehead.
At least that's the hope.
In the end, I'd be happy just entertaining people. It matters not whether readers find any deeper depths or not. It only matters to me that I work. And that I not try too hard.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
The Website Is Up (Officially)
After much tinkering and a quick upgrade of the website to remove all ads, Michael Drayton, Detective Guy is now available as a web presence in your cyber neighborhood.
Let the marketing officially begin!
Let the marketing officially begin!
Friday, June 20, 2008
The Beginning
Now the fun can begin. I just found out that I did not win the Emory Goes Novel contest, which is fine. I was a finalist, which is something. And now the true marketing can start.
I need to create a query letter, and I will do that over the weekend. The website is in development, and I hope to take care of some of the finishing details in the next few days. I even have the following video posted on youtube to show what a slick item I am in person.
This is going to happen. I know it in the still, small place at my core. Remember: You heard it here first.
I need to create a query letter, and I will do that over the weekend. The website is in development, and I hope to take care of some of the finishing details in the next few days. I even have the following video posted on youtube to show what a slick item I am in person.
This is going to happen. I know it in the still, small place at my core. Remember: You heard it here first.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Some Thoughts
My wife has a concept concerning a certain level of literature that she calls "bridge books." (This comes not from some zany; she is a former battle-hardened bookseller with a degree in English.) Bridge books are not books about bridge or books about bridges, they are books that bridge the perceived gap between popular and literary fiction. They help people who read only crappy but popular books step up to more challenging, and ultimately, more interesting literature. This doesn't mean that reading one book by Jan Karon or Russell Banks will take every reader from Harlequin Romances to Tolstoy, but every little step helps.
Now, I bring all this up because it has occurred to me that Michael Drayton, Detective Guy might just be a fair example of just such a book. It starts in a manner almost lighthearted and ends in a far and distant place from that. However, and I did not plan it this way, it makes that transition slowly and almost imperceptibly throughout the book.
On the one hand, I think that mirrors Drayton's experience throughout the story. The change in mood of the story reflects the change in his mood. There is, however, another way of looking at it, I think. I think it also reflects my personal journey as a writer, that it starts out with me the comedy writer and ends with me the serious author. In that way, it is my own personal bridge book.
We'll see how it seems to the cold cruel world once it gets published though. Readers will take what they want from it, not what I intend for them. That's the game.
Now, I bring all this up because it has occurred to me that Michael Drayton, Detective Guy might just be a fair example of just such a book. It starts in a manner almost lighthearted and ends in a far and distant place from that. However, and I did not plan it this way, it makes that transition slowly and almost imperceptibly throughout the book.
On the one hand, I think that mirrors Drayton's experience throughout the story. The change in mood of the story reflects the change in his mood. There is, however, another way of looking at it, I think. I think it also reflects my personal journey as a writer, that it starts out with me the comedy writer and ends with me the serious author. In that way, it is my own personal bridge book.
We'll see how it seems to the cold cruel world once it gets published though. Readers will take what they want from it, not what I intend for them. That's the game.
Friday, June 06, 2008
The Website Is Up (After a Fashion)
Although it is still in rudimentary form, the website for Michael Drayton, Detective Guy is now open for business.
There is now a sample chapter available, as well as a few other tidbits. Visit often and bring a publishing contract.
There is now a sample chapter available, as well as a few other tidbits. Visit often and bring a publishing contract.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Another Step
The other bit of Drayton-related news is that I've acquired the domain name michaeldrayton.com and am in the beginning stages of assembling a website. My dear wife has provided me with a cascade of ideas, and I'm going to use my developing knowledge of web design to give it a try myself.
The website will link here, of course, and there will be a sample as well as a video clip of me reading a selection. I'm not sure what else right at the moment, but I have to start thinking of it from the perspective of the people who might come to visit it, such as agents, publishers, and well wishers.
I will post updates here as they occur.
The website will link here, of course, and there will be a sample as well as a video clip of me reading a selection. I'm not sure what else right at the moment, but I have to start thinking of it from the perspective of the people who might come to visit it, such as agents, publishers, and well wishers.
I will post updates here as they occur.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
What's Been Going on During the Silence
The truth is that I've been waiting. At the end of Febraury or the beginning of March, I submitted Michael Drayton, Detective Guy to the Emory Goes Novel contest, which is a new thing that is being sponsored by the Creative Writing Program of Emory University's English Department, where I am employed. The contest is limited to those who are either Emory students, faculty, staff, or are members of the Friends of the Creative Writing Program, and it was supposed to close on February 1st, but that got pushed back a month.
In April, I got notified that Drayton had been selected as one of the 10 finalists and was asked to submit the complete manuscript. Since then, I've been occupying a fine set of tenterhooks that I keep on hand for just such contingencies. I am hoping to keep from going completely out of my mind until some time next week, although I have always been precocious.
Waiting is hell on earth. If there is a physical hell that isn't just everyday life, I would suggest that it is nothing more than the line to go to see God. And when you finally get to the front of the line, He's on his Lunch Break and you get sent back to the end of the line again.
I will post the results of the contest once I know anything, which is when I will start shopping it again. And if you need me for anything in the meantime, just look for the guy on the hooks.
In April, I got notified that Drayton had been selected as one of the 10 finalists and was asked to submit the complete manuscript. Since then, I've been occupying a fine set of tenterhooks that I keep on hand for just such contingencies. I am hoping to keep from going completely out of my mind until some time next week, although I have always been precocious.
Waiting is hell on earth. If there is a physical hell that isn't just everyday life, I would suggest that it is nothing more than the line to go to see God. And when you finally get to the front of the line, He's on his Lunch Break and you get sent back to the end of the line again.
I will post the results of the contest once I know anything, which is when I will start shopping it again. And if you need me for anything in the meantime, just look for the guy on the hooks.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Endnotes
Well, it is done. I wrote another five pages of Michael Drayton, Detective Guy yesterday and thought I had it finished. Except that the last sentence kept nagging at me. I ended up writing another couple of paragraphs this morning, and now I think I can officially declare this novel over.
It stands at 234 pages, which works out, in publishing terms to about 58,000 words. Quite respectable.
It all started out as an idea for a parody short story in about 1979. I then thought of it as an idea for a movie for a while. I tried writing it as a novel in the mid-to-late ’80s, but the result really stunk up the place. I then wrote it as a teleplay for a TV movie in the early ’90s, and actually got some interest from an agent. That deal fell through when she wanted me to change every damn to darn, every God to gosh, and wanted to remove every instance in which alcohol was used, which was plenty.
I then decided to try writing it as a novel as part of Na-No-Wri-Mo (National Novel Writing Month) in 2004. That November, I churned out a decent portion of a draft. That got put it aside for a year-and-a-half while I worked on radio scripts. I then started revising the chunk I had written, then kept writing more. I finished the first draft on March 9, 2007, and entered it in an idiotic contest on Gather.com. It foundered there, and I started work on the second draft, which mostly entailed rewriting the second half of the previous manuscript.
I also found out something interesting along the way: The book improved the more I took out the jokes. I had always thought of myself as a comedy writer who worked with serious themes, but it turned out that I was more of a serious writer with a well-developed sense of humor. Live and learn, huh?
I’m sure that there are parts that still need work, pages that will come back from an editor some day awash in red. And that’s okay. I’m willing to do that work. Later. Right now, I need a break. There are some short stories I need to give my attention to and air to breathe and life to live.
Writing a novel is a huge endeavor, and it mostly feels like you’re trying to swim from the White Cliffs of Dover to Coney Island. You spend most of your time alone and at-sea, and all you can do is to follow the sun over the horizon. I have now arrived, exhausted and out of breath. And by early next week, I’ll be thinking of writing the next one.
(This post is a mirror of one on my main blog, Are You Happy Now, Norman Mailer.)
It stands at 234 pages, which works out, in publishing terms to about 58,000 words. Quite respectable.
It all started out as an idea for a parody short story in about 1979. I then thought of it as an idea for a movie for a while. I tried writing it as a novel in the mid-to-late ’80s, but the result really stunk up the place. I then wrote it as a teleplay for a TV movie in the early ’90s, and actually got some interest from an agent. That deal fell through when she wanted me to change every damn to darn, every God to gosh, and wanted to remove every instance in which alcohol was used, which was plenty.
I then decided to try writing it as a novel as part of Na-No-Wri-Mo (National Novel Writing Month) in 2004. That November, I churned out a decent portion of a draft. That got put it aside for a year-and-a-half while I worked on radio scripts. I then started revising the chunk I had written, then kept writing more. I finished the first draft on March 9, 2007, and entered it in an idiotic contest on Gather.com. It foundered there, and I started work on the second draft, which mostly entailed rewriting the second half of the previous manuscript.
I also found out something interesting along the way: The book improved the more I took out the jokes. I had always thought of myself as a comedy writer who worked with serious themes, but it turned out that I was more of a serious writer with a well-developed sense of humor. Live and learn, huh?
I’m sure that there are parts that still need work, pages that will come back from an editor some day awash in red. And that’s okay. I’m willing to do that work. Later. Right now, I need a break. There are some short stories I need to give my attention to and air to breathe and life to live.
Writing a novel is a huge endeavor, and it mostly feels like you’re trying to swim from the White Cliffs of Dover to Coney Island. You spend most of your time alone and at-sea, and all you can do is to follow the sun over the horizon. I have now arrived, exhausted and out of breath. And by early next week, I’ll be thinking of writing the next one.
(This post is a mirror of one on my main blog, Are You Happy Now, Norman Mailer.)
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Endgame, Perhaps
Yesterday, I started work on what I think will be the final chapter of Michael Drayton, Detective Guy, and the words came out in a torrent. At least, a torrent by my standards. I just pasted the verbiage into a Word document to get an idea of how much I actually did, and it came out to five pages. Now, you have to understand that, typically, one page of finished writing is a good day for me. Five page days come at rare intervals and are celebrated events.
The story itself is also taking an interesting turn. In the previous version, the last chapter wrapped things up in an ironic, almost actionless way. That is no longer the case. It’s in many ways a very traditional ending for a hardboiled tale and is kind of like the end of The Maltese Falcon and the chapter with Silver Wig near the end of The Big Sleep smashed together. At least that’s how it’s turning out. I honestly have no idea how it will end up.
(This post is a mirror of a post on my main blog, Are You Happy Now, Norman Mailer.)
The story itself is also taking an interesting turn. In the previous version, the last chapter wrapped things up in an ironic, almost actionless way. That is no longer the case. It’s in many ways a very traditional ending for a hardboiled tale and is kind of like the end of The Maltese Falcon and the chapter with Silver Wig near the end of The Big Sleep smashed together. At least that’s how it’s turning out. I honestly have no idea how it will end up.
(This post is a mirror of a post on my main blog, Are You Happy Now, Norman Mailer.)
Friday, February 22, 2008
Chapter 22 Complete
It turned out that I was just making the end of Chapter 22 of Michael Drayton, Detective Guy harder than it needed to be. As soon as I lightened up and let the story speak to me, it all came together in ten minutes. This is why writing is like trying to find the staircase in the dark. You’re going to bump your shin or stub your toe, but it generally works out fine in the end.
And so on to Chapter 23, which may be the last chapter or may not. The problem I’m having is that I’m not really sure what the solution to the mystery is yet. I have some ideas. I think I know. I used to really think I knew. But now it’s more bumping around in the dark.
Now let’s just hope that I don’t fall over that ottoman.
(This is a mirror post from my main blog, Are You Happy Now, Norman Mailer?)
And so on to Chapter 23, which may be the last chapter or may not. The problem I’m having is that I’m not really sure what the solution to the mystery is yet. I have some ideas. I think I know. I used to really think I knew. But now it’s more bumping around in the dark.
Now let’s just hope that I don’t fall over that ottoman.
(This is a mirror post from my main blog, Are You Happy Now, Norman Mailer?)
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Words to Live By
Authors have traditionally used epigraphs at the beginning of books or chapters to let the reader know what they had in mind while writing it. (There are exceptions. Max Shulman purposely misled his readers with his. In his book Barefoot Boy with Cheek, he gave a new epigraph for each chapter. The most memorable one is : “Mon oncle est mort.–Balzac.”) Well, I’ve finally dived in and joined the crowd.
Last week, while reading about the great dead French filmmaker, Jean Renoir, I came across the epigraph for my novel, Michael Drayton, Detective Guy. And I came across it with the posthumous help of Orson Welles. He had written an article for the Los Angeles Times back in 1979, right after Renoir died, and the one footnote in the Wikipedia article happened to link to Welles’s piece. I well remember when Renoir died. I watched his obituary on the evening news and was interested because he was the son of Pierre August Renoir, the Impressionist painter, and because Woody Allen kept mentioning him in his movies. (Grand Illusion is mentioned in Annie Hall in one of the scenes in LA and Renoir himself is mentioned in Manhattan. The look of both films is influenced heavily by Renoir.) A few months later, I took Film as Literature at the Community College of Rhode Island, and the professor screened Grand Illusion for us. It was brilliant. I was smitten.
So, there I was, reading Welles’s tribute to his friend and mentor, and suddenly Welles quotes a well-known line from Rules of the Game: “The terrible thing about life is this: Everyone has his reasons.” And an epigraph was born. Or, rather, nicked.
The rewriting of Drayton grinds on. I’m finishing up the next-to-last chapter and am preparing to begin the final installment. Only I realized today that this current chapter lays out some material that could be spun out even further. And yet, I need to finish this draft by April 2nd, just in case it gets picked as one of the ten finalists in a contest being sponsored by the Creative Writing department of the university I work at. And maybe it doesn’t need to be spun out any further at all anyway. But that’s how writing goes. You feel your way through.
(This is a mirror post from my main blog, Are You Happy Now, Norman Mailer?
Last week, while reading about the great dead French filmmaker, Jean Renoir, I came across the epigraph for my novel, Michael Drayton, Detective Guy. And I came across it with the posthumous help of Orson Welles. He had written an article for the Los Angeles Times back in 1979, right after Renoir died, and the one footnote in the Wikipedia article happened to link to Welles’s piece. I well remember when Renoir died. I watched his obituary on the evening news and was interested because he was the son of Pierre August Renoir, the Impressionist painter, and because Woody Allen kept mentioning him in his movies. (Grand Illusion is mentioned in Annie Hall in one of the scenes in LA and Renoir himself is mentioned in Manhattan. The look of both films is influenced heavily by Renoir.) A few months later, I took Film as Literature at the Community College of Rhode Island, and the professor screened Grand Illusion for us. It was brilliant. I was smitten.
So, there I was, reading Welles’s tribute to his friend and mentor, and suddenly Welles quotes a well-known line from Rules of the Game: “The terrible thing about life is this: Everyone has his reasons.” And an epigraph was born. Or, rather, nicked.
The rewriting of Drayton grinds on. I’m finishing up the next-to-last chapter and am preparing to begin the final installment. Only I realized today that this current chapter lays out some material that could be spun out even further. And yet, I need to finish this draft by April 2nd, just in case it gets picked as one of the ten finalists in a contest being sponsored by the Creative Writing department of the university I work at. And maybe it doesn’t need to be spun out any further at all anyway. But that’s how writing goes. You feel your way through.
(This is a mirror post from my main blog, Are You Happy Now, Norman Mailer?
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
The Thing About Writing
I don’t know how it works for everybody, but I know how it works for me. I intend, with the completion of each chapter, to go bounding into the next, to keep the momentum going and to push right through to the end. It never seems to work that way, though. Instead, I approach each new chapter like a dog approaches a place to nap. I sidle up to it slowly, sniff it a few times, complete three circles, and then get to it.
That is exactly what’s happening with Chapter 22 of Michael Drayton, Detective Guy. Psychologically, I’m ready to go forward. I just haven’t come up with the right opening sentence yet. I actually put down a couple of sentences three days ago, but removed them yesterday. It didn’t sound right, didn’t hit me right. And then, a few minutes ago, I opened up the previous chapter and read the end, hoping that something in there would inspire me. I just ended up rewriting the last paragraph of Chapter 21 and coming up with nothing for Chapter 22.
But that’s the process. I’ll come up with something soon. I’ll be taking a shower or going for a walk or reading something that has nothing to do with the book, and it will all open up in a moment of rapturous insight. That’s the system, and you can’t fight city hall.
(This post is a mirror of one on my other blog, Are You Happy Now, Norman Mailer.)
That is exactly what’s happening with Chapter 22 of Michael Drayton, Detective Guy. Psychologically, I’m ready to go forward. I just haven’t come up with the right opening sentence yet. I actually put down a couple of sentences three days ago, but removed them yesterday. It didn’t sound right, didn’t hit me right. And then, a few minutes ago, I opened up the previous chapter and read the end, hoping that something in there would inspire me. I just ended up rewriting the last paragraph of Chapter 21 and coming up with nothing for Chapter 22.
But that’s the process. I’ll come up with something soon. I’ll be taking a shower or going for a walk or reading something that has nothing to do with the book, and it will all open up in a moment of rapturous insight. That’s the system, and you can’t fight city hall.
(This post is a mirror of one on my other blog, Are You Happy Now, Norman Mailer.)
Friday, January 11, 2008
Chapter 21 Complete
I finally finished Chapter 21 yesterday, work on which was delayed by the holidays, the flu, a cold, and moving. Other than that, it couldn't have gone better.
I'm now contemplating the end of the novel, and I think it's going to be radically different than I had previously planned, and that there will probably be a confrontation with the killer or killers. I'm going to have to turn it around in the atomic wind machine of my mind for a day or two, I think.
There is a bit more information that I feel, in order to be fair to the reader, ought to be divulged. Because of this, I'm not certain whether I'm looking at just one more chapter or two, one long and one short. I suspect it will be the latter, but you never know until you actually start writing, an activity which should occur either today or over the weekend.
Provided I don't get sick or have to move again.
I'm now contemplating the end of the novel, and I think it's going to be radically different than I had previously planned, and that there will probably be a confrontation with the killer or killers. I'm going to have to turn it around in the atomic wind machine of my mind for a day or two, I think.
There is a bit more information that I feel, in order to be fair to the reader, ought to be divulged. Because of this, I'm not certain whether I'm looking at just one more chapter or two, one long and one short. I suspect it will be the latter, but you never know until you actually start writing, an activity which should occur either today or over the weekend.
Provided I don't get sick or have to move again.
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