(no subject)
With the exception of some minor revisions I need to make when I get home, Chapter Three of Strange Angels is done.
I know I keep waxing effulgent about this story (and using terms like "effulgent" thanks to being a Whedon-girl), but I think I've just written the best 10,000 words in my life. Hands down, the best 10,000 words ever to come out of my brain. I actually look at it and want other people to read it. Even with my published poems, I've never wanted someone to read what I wrote. I always turned them in a little embaressed, wondering what people saw in them. But this chapter is polished - a few typos corrected, and it's ready. Everything's starting to come together - the characters, the story, the backstory.
I know I can't take credit for all of this. Obviously, some of the characters aren't mine. I think a lot of this is coming from those who are helping me - I have two people giving me consistent feedback, and a whole slew of others giving me feedback along the way. And my editors don't pull punches - they'll call me on the big and small things. And I think I'm in the right place at the right time for this story, and even though I'll never be able to publish it, I'm relearning a lot about the craft of writing. And a lot about myself, in a weirdly philosophical way. Pushing myself to write this, and being disciplined about it, has taught me that I can do the full-time job and work on the writing on the side. And, as my friend Scott W. told me, it's good that I'm writing again - it doesn't matter what I write, so long as I keep doing it. (But I was pleasantly surprised to hear that he was loving the story. I didn't even know he was reading it until he told me last Saturday!)
Ironically, it's a huge departure from what I normally write. I've never tried my hand at a modern story with any seriousness, even one with (if you'll pardon the pun) supernatural components. (Unless, I guess, you count the Duran Duran stories from high school. Don't. Much as my inner-fifteen-year-old loves her John Taylor, they suck. ;-P And arwensouth can attest to this. She got the dramatic readings, the ones where I was laughing so hard in a chair I had to lean against the wall to get the words out.) The worlds I developed are all high fantasy, and while the stakes are no less in this story than in the Aspect world, the "real-world" aspect does ground a lot of those elements into something we can all relate to as someone living in modern America. That does give a certain freedom, because you don't have to describe everything in minute detail. Instead, I've been able to focus on the elements I think are interesting, versus trying to immerse the reader into a whole new world. And I've slowed down the introduction of the Nephilim (which is critical to my plot) so that it's more easily taken in.
And the characters have been challenging. I'm used to writing from the perspective of strong female characters; Charlie may become a strong female, but right now she's a scarred little girl whose only goal is to get out alive. Writing from a male perspective (particularly Dean, but all of the narrative characters are male with the exception of Charlie) has also been liberating. This may come as no shock to those who understand my spiritual inclinations, but I have (or, had) very little masculine energy within my makeup. I have always closely identified with "goddess" but rarely with "god." Forcing myself into the heads of male characters has opened up the more masculine side of my self. I guess the cosmic mallet of understanding doesn't really care where it gets you, so long as it does.
Hopefully, the chapter (and the rest of the story) can live up to the hype.