On writing, genre, and the impossible cat.
My normal genre -- and by 'normal' I mean 'the one I write in the most frequently' -- is urban fantasy, edging into light horror. After that comes romcom and chick lit, and then a slowly declining list, all the way down to 'scholarly non-fiction' for my poetry tutorials. 'Young adult lit' isn't a place that I visit all that often, unless I have a really, really good idea.
Last week, I got a really, really good idea. Or what I considered to be a really, really good idea. The timeline, thus far, has been:
Thursday: think of book. Deny that I am going to write book.
Friday: when plans fall through, start writing book. But casually. Finish first chapter.
Saturday: finish second chapter. Keep sneaking back to book.
Sunday: finish third chapter. Admit that I am going to write book.
Monday: finish fourth chapter. Rename main character.
Tuesday: finish fifth chapter.
As I am now five chapters and twenty thousand words into the damn thing, I think I can safely say that Upon A Star is actually going to get written. Given that it's outlined to come in at roughly twelve chapters and sixty thousand words, I think I can also safely say that it's going to get written really quickly. Disturbingly so.
Much like writing Chasing St. Margaret, this has been very refreshing in a lot of ways; the laws of the genre are different, so I can do new things without 'violating' any unwritten rules. The cliches and pitfalls are also different, and avoiding them is an interesting challenge. I'm deeply familiar with the genre -- like any good author, I've done my homework, and a lot of background reading -- and that helps a lot; things stay exciting, rather than turning frustrating, when I run into something truly new.
The speed with which this is coming together is a little bit unnerving, if only because I'm used to working on a slightly larger canvas -- my books usually average between 100,000 and 120,000 words, which makes this roughly half-length, comparatively. So not feeling the need to stretch things out and make them last? That's very, very odd.
There's only been one huge 'this is necessary' realization, when I figured out midway through chapter three that every chapter had to open with a text block from a book that is hugely important in the fictional world. So I went back and wrote those, and found that they really hold the story together as a whole. (While they will never be written, I know the basic plot and structure of all six Babylon Archer books, because failure to know this would make it impossible to write the actual books. This is when the meta eats my brain.)
Writing this fast means I really need a good and dedicated proofreading crew. My normal batch (the folks who proof Toby and the Margaret books) is largely occupied with other things right now, so I snagged a bunch of people who have expressed an interest in proofreading for me in the past, and...wow. It's like siccing a bunch of hyenas on a crippled zebra. I'm getting detailed notes on everything from punctuation to continuity, and while my first drafts are relatively clean, they're a long way from perfect, so there are a lot of notes to get.
When I ask for critique, I really mean it: I want to get mauled. And these people are mauling me. Small, bloody gibbets of blonde are splattered all over the ground. And I? Am more than good with this fact. Yay for hurting the ones you love the most.
My most amusing continuity error so far? In the opening paragraph of the book, Corey (my protagonist) commented that she knew she wasn't dreaming because the cat had scratched her when kicked off the bed. Later, she went on at length about how her brother's allergies meant that they couldn't have any fur-bearing pets. One person managed to catch this, and is thus saluted.
I'm really feeling good about this book.
Glee.
Last week, I got a really, really good idea. Or what I considered to be a really, really good idea. The timeline, thus far, has been:
Thursday: think of book. Deny that I am going to write book.
Friday: when plans fall through, start writing book. But casually. Finish first chapter.
Saturday: finish second chapter. Keep sneaking back to book.
Sunday: finish third chapter. Admit that I am going to write book.
Monday: finish fourth chapter. Rename main character.
Tuesday: finish fifth chapter.
As I am now five chapters and twenty thousand words into the damn thing, I think I can safely say that Upon A Star is actually going to get written. Given that it's outlined to come in at roughly twelve chapters and sixty thousand words, I think I can also safely say that it's going to get written really quickly. Disturbingly so.
Much like writing Chasing St. Margaret, this has been very refreshing in a lot of ways; the laws of the genre are different, so I can do new things without 'violating' any unwritten rules. The cliches and pitfalls are also different, and avoiding them is an interesting challenge. I'm deeply familiar with the genre -- like any good author, I've done my homework, and a lot of background reading -- and that helps a lot; things stay exciting, rather than turning frustrating, when I run into something truly new.
The speed with which this is coming together is a little bit unnerving, if only because I'm used to working on a slightly larger canvas -- my books usually average between 100,000 and 120,000 words, which makes this roughly half-length, comparatively. So not feeling the need to stretch things out and make them last? That's very, very odd.
There's only been one huge 'this is necessary' realization, when I figured out midway through chapter three that every chapter had to open with a text block from a book that is hugely important in the fictional world. So I went back and wrote those, and found that they really hold the story together as a whole. (While they will never be written, I know the basic plot and structure of all six Babylon Archer books, because failure to know this would make it impossible to write the actual books. This is when the meta eats my brain.)
Writing this fast means I really need a good and dedicated proofreading crew. My normal batch (the folks who proof Toby and the Margaret books) is largely occupied with other things right now, so I snagged a bunch of people who have expressed an interest in proofreading for me in the past, and...wow. It's like siccing a bunch of hyenas on a crippled zebra. I'm getting detailed notes on everything from punctuation to continuity, and while my first drafts are relatively clean, they're a long way from perfect, so there are a lot of notes to get.
When I ask for critique, I really mean it: I want to get mauled. And these people are mauling me. Small, bloody gibbets of blonde are splattered all over the ground. And I? Am more than good with this fact. Yay for hurting the ones you love the most.
My most amusing continuity error so far? In the opening paragraph of the book, Corey (my protagonist) commented that she knew she wasn't dreaming because the cat had scratched her when kicked off the bed. Later, she went on at length about how her brother's allergies meant that they couldn't have any fur-bearing pets. One person managed to catch this, and is thus saluted.
I'm really feeling good about this book.
Glee.