It was a beautiful walk this morning, thirty-two F exactly, according to several sources, calm, with a few high crystalline clouds doing nothing to abate rich sunshine.
I was up early with a mission to edit and revise another sixty pages of this work, called "Dark Red", an urban fantasy novel. That done, I have less than forty pages remaining to edit. That leaves me free to do other things today.
It's wondrous, editing and revising this work, as it strikes me as a book, and I like it. Yet, it being mine, I'm anxious in the way that most authors are anxious, that it's too odd, doesn't fit a genre, won't ever be published or will be published and come and go without a whisper. What parent doesn't think their own baby is beautiful? (There's a character there, waiting for a story, isn't there, about a mother who doesn't think their child is beautiful.)
(What about a science fiction novel of humans suddenly giving birth to 'other creatures'? I can have a lot of fun with social commentary about that....)
Part of me this morning thought, "Dark Red" could be either a great success or a great flop.
You know which way I leaned.
Walking home, I pondered my next project. I always have nine or ten projects in process, novels being written, or in various states of revision and editing. (There might be more, as I think about it.) I also have about twenty short stories written, some once submitted and once rejected but others written and revised, done and almost forgotten, never submitted, but finished, giving me that satisfaction. I don't know what to do with them.
Then there are all those notebooks of all those words that were written that are yet to be typed up.
This novel being revised was actually mostly written last year. In fact, all but about 8,000 words were written last year. I pulled it out one day in Jan, took a look at it and thought, hmmm. Then, come the end of Jan, I finished writing the novel as I worked on another one in parallel, and started editing and revising it when I returned from vacation this week.
A large part of me wants to return to "The Forzen Proposal". This is a science fiction novel that I started last year (I think). I wrote about thirty thousand words. For some reason, it's calling me to work on it.
But also calling is another old novel that I keep pulling out and revising, another science fiction alt history work called "Peerless".
There is "The Stellar Queen" to be finished that I was working on in January, and "Seeing Me Seeing You", and the anti-zombie novella, "Sunlight Through a Moonlit Window". (Remembering it, I think, ooooh, I'd like to finish it.) Then there's the Spider City YA science fiction trilogy, and the Soul Stone YA fantasy novel, and the Parasam Effect (two urban fantasy novels of the same series) finished last year (or maybe the year before), but which require some editing. (Maybe I should pull the first one out and take a look at it.) There's also "Humping the Bones", a science fiction novella, and the long short story that was finished, edited, submitted, rejected, and just needs a little more editing, "Next Gen".
But as I walked today, the beginning to a sequel to the novel just finished began writing itself. The voice and scene were so clear....
And there's a murder mystery that I'd like to write, a long pondered novel called "Parts Plus 48" and a male bonding novel that I want to write that came to me while on vacation, and some fun with zombies that my mind had while on vacation....
No matter how much I write like crazy, there's always more to write.
Now off to see a matinee presentation of "Argo." I'm a little anxious about it.
Movies always inspire me with new ideas for novels and stories.
So do books.
It's funny that way.
Causes Michael Seidel Supports
Kiva, Women's International League for Peace and Freedom, Propublica.org, Doctors Without Borders, GreaterGood.com