Finished Draft Woes and Longhand Binges

So I finished Dark Falcon with I think it was 73K. Have read through it a couple times since November. There are a few issues. It needs expansion in some places, and a lot of (rather difficult) research in others. Somewhat overwhelming amount of supporting characters. Can't think of any major revisions to the story though, and it's been bugging me whether or not that's a good thing. I spent so much time planning the story out in September and October, that I may have actually gotten it right in November.

Of course, I hope this isn't the wrong intuition.

While I work out this small conundrum, I have been writing another story (August 16th) longhand. It's made great progress, but I'm still sorting through any multitude of options for the story. (I always hated Choose Your Own Adventure stories. There would be pages I just could never find. Not that this story is one. Just feels that way.) Spent all of the last three days working on it.

Have to say, because I'm writing in time-coded sections, writing longhand has been easier for August 16th. I did once have this crazy idea about making it anchronological, a whim since abandoned.

Hope everyone is having a great 2011, and does anyone else find some stories just flow better in longhand?

:D

Write a Book, then Write It Again... And Again.

You have a story idea. Maybe something inspires, maybe you had this amazing dream. Maybe you just love a particular concept and have built upon it.

What are you going to do with it?

There are plenty of options. A screenplay, a comic book or strip, poetry, your alter ego, a novel. Maybe even inspiration for a painting. Still, most people do nothing.

Assuming you're a writer too, you went the fiction route (and probably the alter ego).

I believe I first attempted to write a book when I was seven or eight years old. My story wasn't bad in the premise. It reflected my own life, books I'd read, and recent news events.

Unfortunately my effort was abandoned for one major reason: I had no clue how to write. I believed that all paragraphs had to be exactly 4-6 sentences long. And I'd never heard of margins or the fact you could leave off dialogue tags.

When I discovered how to format, maybe a year or two later, my stories finally escaped being mere doodles on notebook paper and became words. (Notebook paper remains my favorite media.)

I won't pretend to have been a prodigy. My first efforts were probably much like everyone's. You should know the problems.

As I wrote my ideas began to develop and became better. They would change so quickly that often I would just have to start the story over. (They were innately long. I still struggle to write short stories. Or just finish a work at all.)

After that, there's actually not a lot. I wrote, and wrote, and wrote, and wrote, and wrote, and wrote. In between, I read mounds of books and drew character art. I never went to a workshop and my only book on writing was my grammar book. Other novels formed my style, etc.

Now, I consider myself born a story-weaver and dreamer, but I only call myself a writer because I've devoted myself to an unknown quantity of fiction. (I've probably passed the Million Words mark).

These past two and a half years, I've learned a lot about maturing my stories from the internet and Nanowrimo. Literary agents, other publishing people, and experienced creative writers have blogs that all have given me advice I desperately needed.

What remains is to create a polished manuscript and eventually find someone willing to publish it.

So how about you? Where have you come from as a writer?

P.S. This is my first attempt at this kind of writing post. Please feel free to give advice on where I have failed.

Thanks to Write a Better Novel for inspiring this post.

In other news...

I'm rather stuffy in my eras and nose right now. It makes me a little cranky. So while everyone else is playing the Wii sports that my grandparents bought us for Christmas, I am writing this to complain about how awful I feel. I did get a fancy fountain pen with several different ink cartridges in it. As well as a fluffy robe that I love. It's a bright blue color, the same shade as its accompanying throw blanket and the leather journal my aunt and uncle bought for me.

Weather keeps doing snow flurries, like it's teasing us. I wish that it would finally get cold enough for it to snow and stick, instead a all this almost-but-not-quite-enough. To switch subjects, I love spiced tea and could drink it all day long (come to think of it, I do). And I like watching The Pretender on Hulu a lot, even though the reality of his situation can get really depressing if I let myself think about it.

In writing news, with the exception of a blip of a mermaid short story idea, I can't think of anything to write. It's the quasi-cold, I think. Maybe I need to watch Narnia or something to get ideas flowing. Also, my wrist is feeling much better after resting. I've been working on a picture to celebrate that.

S.D.

The Wait

So I was watching the screensaver, which is set to display photos, and I saw this picture. And then I had a poem

The Wait by S.D.

Across lonely hills I wander
Along darkened seas I slumber
The sound, the noise
Will signal new rejoice
Yet silence ensues
And forevermore continues

Perhaps a bit short, but I rather like it.
S.D.