Thursday, September 29, 2011

On To The Next Thing...


I haven't heard back regarding Udopia from either the Main Street Rag or any agents. Allegory Magazine hasn't said anything about "Tarantulas On Leashes." And still no word on what the folks at Manic D Press think about my poems.

It's been like, two weeks. What is wrong with this people? Have they no sense of urgency? Removing tongue from cheek, of course it's going to be a while. So what am I working on now?


I had planned on finishing No Strings Attached. I estimate I'm about 40,000 words away, which would be a couple of months of good, solid effort.

But then something else struck my fancy. I pulled the first novel I ever began out of mothballs and began re-working it. I'm intentionally being vague on the details reason, really. Just deal with it.

When I first wrote it, I put each chapter in its own document. Therefore, I had no idea how long it was. The other week, I put everything together. It's 75,000 words. I always had thought I was about 2/3 to 3/4 done with the the story arc. Working the math, it would be around 100,000 words when done. But also, in looking at it, I saw it takes a while to "get going." The action really didn't start until the 45th page, out of 170. So I've been mercilessly hacking, and re-configuring some stuff (such as the age of my protagonist).

It's definitely a case of addition by subtraction. It's now down to 54,000 words. But the good stuff starts on page 22 of 164. The story really moves along better now. It's crisper.

As I mentioned, I want to keep a lot of the details close to me. But here's the prologue:

    I am a dream weaver. That is how I make money:
        I make dreams for other people.
      Not just any dreams.
          But good dreams.
        And not just any people.
             But weak people, scared people. Everyday people, normal people.
    People like your friends, co-workers, maybe even your wife.
        People who are so close to the edge in this increasingly frightening world, that their nightmares begin to interfere with their lives.
      Virtually stop them from functioning.
          Literally scare them out of their wits.
        But I help them through the night by sharing my dreams, a sort of mental tour guide, if you will.
              Dreams 'R Us.
    We go there together, bound by the thinnest of filaments, to the place where the line between reality and creation bends and gives ominously.
            I hold their hands as we dodge and outrun the monsters, demons, ghosts, and                         bogeymen.
    In the morning, they are reborn, happy, and ready to go on.
           All because of me and my dreams.
    Dreams sometimes can go astray, and when they do, that's what we call nightmares.

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