I’m backing and forthing with whether to novel or novella.
Content isn’t the issue, I’ve got words galore. But as I painfully carry on with the editing process, I’m wondering if I would like to chop chapters down so they slap a bit harder.
Don’t get me wrong, my book is bite-y as fuck, as is. I don’t want there to be too many tangents in it though. I like to fish for emotions from a reader using hard, sharp, short phrasing. Jumping around from topic to topic in this particular style creates a somewhat confining land that makes your head whip back and forth, line for line.
I think novella might be a better place to really punch with the style I’m working with at the moment. So I’ll probably spend the weekend cutting back pages.
In other news, a group of tourists bowed to Frankie during one of our walks today and started to speak to him in Thai. Although now and then someone would throw in an, “I love you! I love you!!”
After that, a woman sitting on the corner jangling a cup of change gave both of the puppies pats and talked about how beautiful they both are until we wished each other well and continued separate ways.
Whenever I consider living someplace else, I know that I’m just not ready to give some things up. Thus I am sitting tight. Especially until I finish this latest pile of writing I’ve done been on about.
I have been ill busy building a new webpage for my job. That actually happened. It launches in an hour, so you can imagine what my weekend has been like banging keys and reading screens. Truth be told, I’ve learned more about making stuff in Internet land in the past two weeks than I have since launching FollowMeToNYC world in 2009.
I’m not sure how I really feel about any of it… but I still dream of prettying this site one day. Continue reading
Today is Tuesday and I am resisting dipping into holiday mode because work is wild as always and I kind of need to focus.
But next week is chapter week blog family! It is my first full week off in over a year and I’m going to spend the whole thing with my face buried in words aiming to surface with novel. In any event, novel will be closer closer closer.
Then I can focus on other important life things, like a sequel for The Carrier.
In addition to the whole exercise thing that I’ve returned to (again)… I’ve decided to only eat steamed green things this week. This way, next week during my time off – I won’t feel as guilty about gorging on wine, cheese and olives.
I haven’t spent a week at my parents’ house since I first set off on mission alla New York City and hid in their basement between popping in and out of town for interviews, and scribbling down stories.
I remember lying on my bedroom floor when I was seven years old writing my first “book” in a spiral notebook. I’ve written some of my favorite pieces at my parents’ place. So even though the idea of getting away for a couple of days was appealing, finishing this bloody book takes priority. Also, puppies. The forest at my parents’ has rapidly become one of their favorite lands.
And besides, I’m running away to a secret location with boy and puppies 4th of July weekend… oh summer how I missed thee.
I’m addicted to vine, suddenly and already.
Camping was fun blog family. I think Frankie sprained his leg somewhere in between the mix… he was a bit limpy after prancing through Central Park this morning. That aside… it was a seamless effort.
I camped in a shack on eleven acres of nowhere-ville someplace amongst the northern Catskill Mountains. I hiked around barefoot and held marshmallows over open flames until they torched into crispy black gobs of carbon-y goodness.
I counted stars and swatted mosquitoes. The puppies were utterly out of control – leaping and prancing and dancing about.
I don’t think I’m a “city” character per se, I just backflip over certain populated areas like New York, Amsterdam and the sort…I grew up in the country. We weren’t allowed to be inside as kids, my best friend and I.
One day, when I’m a world-renowned best-selling author, I’ll probably have a few acres on a couple of continents – preferably touching water. I don’t reckon that’s too much to ask. Naturally I will continue to visit my cities with grace and adoration – but I’ll happily saunter back to a field of flying kites, picnic blankets and wild flowers. Somewhere, in a land, far away.
After 48-hours of river rushing over my naked toes, I returned to New York City.
The puppies weren’t impressed. I can see in their furry faces that neither one of them is so certain about exactly what I’m trying to do around here. But I turned away from them and flipped open my spiral bound ink pad that had notes about exactly what that first chapter will be and all of the ways that each story of my novel ties to the next one to build a new kind of book.
I stood out on my balcony and had a margarita. Then I came back in to re-organize chapters, again.
Writing is so much fun. It makes my life. I am so happy that there is one consistency that has never, and can never, go away.
To words… blog tribe. x