Everyone should have one or two really big moments in their life. Finishing, really finishing, my first novel, The Seventy, has certainly been one of mine.

I thought I’d post about my particular process. Not that anyone else’s is going to be the same, but because it’s done. And as I read somewhere today, it’s my blog, I’ll do what I want to. ☺

February 1, 2007.  I went to a First Thursday with a client, and in the course of our conversation, she said something that decided me. No one had written what I knew about Alexandria, or what I wanted to read. I was going to do it. The next night I started writing.

Over the next six months, nights and weekends I wrote a first draft of 150,000 words. I discovered my writing pace runs (on average) at about 3,000 words a night. I lived in Alexandria. I dreamed it.  I thought about it every second I didn’t have to do something else. When I finished my first draft, I got the title tattoed on my wrist in Roman numerals. scarlettina (who also wrote with me many a Sunday morning) graciously didn’t laugh at me.

markbourne read my first draft, corrected the worst of my awful mistakes, and told me that the story was basically good.

In October I went to a workshop.  It was very interesting.  It was both useful and not. I’ll probably never go to another unless it’s specifically for and with other historical writers since while much writer information was good, much advice as it pertains to the genre I’m working in was bad.  I made many changes from that workshop I later had to go undo.

Let me take a moment here and say that (other than my husband) here are the books that were most helpful:
Strunk & White
The 10% Solution (thank you, Ken Rand)
Beginnings, Middles, Ends (Nancy Kress)
This year you write your novel (Walter Mosley)

Other than Strunk and White, I read none of the them until my first draft was written, and I'm glad of that because I think they would have stopped me cold. I would have felt intimidated.  After those first 150,000 words, hell, nothing intimidated me.

The other thing I did, which I am glad of and I thank Mr. Mosley for, was I read poetry from the era. I read Callimachus and Apollonius and Theocritus and everyone I could find to get a feel for the flow of language and how they thought.

I cut  from 150,000 words to 110,000 words. Yeah. Wow.

It was much better.

Then I rewrote up to 125,000 words and gave it to my 5 second readers. I am deeply grateful to them for their patience and their advice. I am particularly grateful to ironymaiden and maryrosenblum for their insights.

At this point, it was clear that some rearranging needed to happen, which was more time consuming than difficult. I nipped and cut. I added a chapter. I stuck in stuff that my second readers asked for while taking out things I thought extraneous. When I was finished, I handed it over to Mark, who read it one more time.

 I made his line edits.

I’ve written, edited, and tidied every night and every weekend. This is mostly all I’ve done for the past 18 months. It’s been a joyful obsession.  I wish I could say every bit was good prose, but it isn’t.  Some of it I think is prose as good as you’ll read anywhere.  Some is just good enough. But hey, it’s my first book.  I’ll get better.  Some day I may even learn to punctuate.

I’ve read the darn thing out loud, from start to finish, three times. The first draft took six months.  The second draft took six months. The editing took about six months.  A year and a half to the point where I consider it ready to send out to get an agent and try to be published. It now weighs in at 123,000 words.

I’ve sent out a enquiry, and need to send out more.  Both Mark and Mary, bless them, have assured me it’s publishable and I hope they’re right.  I’d write it anyway.  I love my book.  I love my characters.  I’m 80,000 words into the sequel because I have to know what happens next and that's the only way to find out.

Here's my favorite piece, because, ultimately, this is what the book is really about. From King Ptolemy’s spymaster to a Roman agent:

“I’m glad you have some perception. The world is changing, my dear. Soon, everything known will be in one place. Here, in Alexandria. What one man learns, another man can build upon. If we can imagine it, we can make it.” The lamps in the room were reflected in his black eyes. “In the Library, we don’t just catalog poetry and pornographic pictures. We write the world. Fighting men can’t do their work without us to place their feet. Men like us need each other, like a play needs actors. Your part is ongoing. A command performance, in fact.”

Calvus paced, amusing himself by keeping his guards on the move. “Everything in one place? Do you think you can keep it? I thought you Greeks had a word for that.”

Current Mood: accomplished

We are back home, which is a relief and I am so far successful in taking a day off which has been great for dull things like washing clothes and cleaning house.

I had hoped to see more people and do more things while in Portland, but unfortunately, work did not allow. We did make it to Powells, and we did see Iron Man, both of which were on the must do list when we first rolled into town. I liked Iron Man quite a bit. But then, I was  squeeish when I learned RD jr. was going to be in it. So I'm not exactly objective.

Mark got to be more social. He had a great time with jaylakewhich was good for both of them, spent an evening with some film critic friends which I was bummed to have missed (ended up working) he also picked up our Polidori chocolates which I have to say are utterly, intensively fabulous. Really, handmade chocolates by a person are just simply in a whole other league from chocolates you buy from a store.  Even from Rose's or any other's I've had.  These are incomparable. I was intensely sorry to have to cancel on lunch with janetl sorry Janet!) which would have been a grand time at the Chinese Garden. Alas, opening didn't start until 10:00 and then ran over past noon.

Getting to Trial is really just a whole lot of work, a whole lot of waiting, and a whole lot of stress. A normal work day is 12 days.  Frequently longer. It's kind of like playing basketball, start, stop, dribble, fouls, timeouts, run, catch, anything you can do until you finally get the ball into the net (you hope).

And then my part is pretty much over and I get to go home.

My amusing moment during this trial was that during motion practice opposing counsel decided that they were threatened enough by the demonstratives they argued each and every one, which is what delayed opening and cost me my pleasant lunch. Opposing counsel (who I have worked with before) argued that one section of demonstratives was "more suited to the Sundance film festival than to a court of law."

The day of trial, since I know opposing counsel, I thanked him, saying that my coworkers were now undoubtedly going to create a Sundance trophy for me. He laughed and said he'd likely live to regret that argument since the next time he used my services, undoubtedly his opponent would now thrust his words back  in his face.

And shortly thereafter everyone got their game face back on, got in their modes and went back to casting aspersions at each other.

Current Mood: cheerful

An acquaintance of ours, a Portland-based film critic, has begun a new career as a chocolatier. Her new concern, Polidori Chocolates, currently is taking pre-orders from her chocolate blog: Polidori Chocolates, and if you love chocolates, fiim, or find the struggles of someone experimenting to perfect that fabulous ganache recipe interesting, I encourage you to check out Dawn's blogspot.

I have ordered my pre-order, "The Seven Deadly Sins" and will report when it arrives, after I've munched and washed my fingers.  Don't like a chocolatey keyboard.

I read with interest the list of 106 book varina8 posted. I've read 70, started but didn't finish 13, and own but haven't read 7.

Of those listed, only two in fiction would make my "desert island" list.  So here's my personal list for the top ten fiction books I simply couldn't live without.

The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien (I'm going to count it as one, and I don't care if that's a cheat)
His Dark Materials - Phillip Pullman (Yes, I am doing it again. Sue me)
Moby Dick - Herman Melville (It's fat enough for three)
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll (OK, this is time it's just two books, but they're short!)
A Winters Tale - Mark Helprin
The Annotated Sherlock Holmes (Hard to tell which is more fun, the stories or the annotations)
Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
The Wine-Dark Sea - Patrick O'Brien (At least I didn't claim the whole series)
The Grand Sophy - Georgette Heyer (my Achilles heel)
The Murder Room - PD James

I'll only list 5 non-fiction.

Alexander to Actium - Peter Green
Plagues and Peoples - William McNeill
Art & Physics - Leonard Shlain
Art and Fear (if you're an artist of any sort, you should buy this and read it)
On not being able to Paint - Marion Milner

So tell me do, what are your favorites?  I'm always looking for something to read.



 

Current Mood: curious

Current Mood: thoughtful

Friday, a day of great suckitude, was improved enormously by a visit from our Portland friends, Ron and Janet. We had dinner and laughed and told stories and made suggestions and generally had a great time.

This morning, we went exploring up on Pigeon Point, where I hoped to find the park I see from the West Seattle Bridge every morning.  We didn't find that park. Instead we found the Duwamish Greenbelt, which is HUGE. According to the Parks page, it's the largest greenbelt in the city, and is that big stretch of green you see from I-5 on the hill. It has paths! It's rural, and parkish, and treed, in Seattle. I was very impressed. And I liked Pigeon Point. I like funky neighborhoods.  I was also very taken with this enormous stairway, which I have since discovered is the Genessee Stairway.  I wouldn't mind walking down it, going up it would be quite a workout.

We kept meandering on and accidentally found South Seattle Community College, and visited the arboretum. The arboretum was lovely, not very large but full of beautiful trees and plants with their flowers (for the most part) still tightly wrapped. One part was heavenly with Lily of the valley and sweet Daphne Odora.  Lovely. 

They had a map of the Chinese Garden that is in the process of being built.  It's going to be beautiful.  Designed by the Park Department of Chungqing, China.

MeToo passed on last night. We knew she wasn't feeling right, and Mark had made a Vet's appointment for today.  Sometime between 10:30 and midnight she had what appeared to be a stroke, and went into a never ending seizure.

We took her to the Vet Emergency in Wallingford, and said a sad farewell. She was a good cat, and 20 years is a long time for a feline. She was healthy and frisky for all of it, so a sudden leave taking, as sad as it is, is not such a bad way to go.

I feel the best way to memorialize is to tell a story about her so you know what kind of cat she was.  When we got Loki, we got incredibly irritated with the new puppy for chewing up pens and leaving ink all over the floor. We would repeatedly scold her and Loki would get  very sad.

One day I came into the kitchen and surprised MeToo on the table (where she wasn't allowed), batting a pen to the edge, where Loki innocently waited below wagging her tail, to see what treat the cat had in store for her.    It became clear that MeToo was sending pens to their doggie death, getting the puppy in trouble. Loki thought this was just a game the two of them had.

After being caught, and scolded (for which she showed not an ounce of contrition, other than at being caught) she never did it again.

Current Mood: sad

Happy birthday William Shakespeare.

And to my delight, with affection, "A Slurry Tale" which is remarkably similar to "Pulp Fiction" if WS had told it so.

http://pulpbard.wikispaces.com/

Vincent: We should have had longswords. Fie that we have not.

Current Mood: amused

I've figured out how to get .sid data, hoarded by geologists and mapmakers in their own private worlds, into a perfectly respectable .tif file.

Oh yeah, I'm good.

Current Mood: accomplished

I don't usually do this sort of thing, but I found the mystery of varina8's entry so intriguing I was curious what my own would produce.

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people and post a comment to your tagger.

Book: Competition, Violence, and Culture: Combat Sports in the Ancient World

Pausanias describes a picture he saw, a copy of an ancient one-- the ghost was black and frightening and wore a wolfskin. The boxer, when his time came, did not die as ordinary mortals do but departed "in some other way." Needless to say, Euthymos was credited with a dvine father, the river god, Karkinos.