NaNoWriMo 2009: Day what?
This is clearly going to be One Of Those Books. It must be something about more than one POV, because I was fine when I did Hero and Special Delivery with one POV, but man, I have two in Double Blind and now I'm at 80k and still not turning the corner. Well, I've turned a corner but it feels like into act two, which let me tell you, act two is not meant to happen at 80k in a 100k book. Which has me thinking this book is going to be 120. I also am pretty sure I'm going to have to redo the structure a bit after, and collapse and combine. Or something. But long. We are looking at long.
The good news is that Dreamspinner, whom I am contractually obligated to offer this to first since it has recurring characters from Special Delivery (and whom I would offer it to anyway because they are Home), I found out today does not have a word limit. The story has to legitimately require that many words, but pretty much when I asked how long can it be, the answer was, "As long as it needs to be." It just made me feel really good, because I keep hearing rumors about even big name houses saying, "You have to keep it under 100k because of money" and then here I am with people saying, "Whatever the story needs." Like I said. Home.
So I haven't been posting because I've been busy, but also because (again, on cue!) this book is freaking me out. Too long. Too deep. And it's Randy who is vulnerable more than Ethan, which I shouldn't take so personally, but I am. So lots of raw. And my break over the weekend taught me that breaks are somewhat deadly. I really had to climb back on top of it today, and I barely made it. Of course, I'm going to get galleys soon (had copy edits on Friday. ARG. I have a comma problem.), so I will have to slow again. But yeah. Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming.
Lots of nice moments. I'd tease, but I don't know what to post yet. Maybe just a snippet, though, something out of context and fun? Oh, I've got it. Randy and the kitten. Her name is Salomé.
*
Randy washed his face, brushed his teeth, did all the usual things before bed that he hadn’t done since Ethan had showed up, but he avoided his own reflection while he did it all, and when it was done, he shut off the light and went into his room, peeled off his clothes, put on a pair of knit pants, and climbed into his bed, where he drew the covers to his waist and stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t know what everyone else was doing or what they’d think of his absence, and he didn’t care.
Much.
He didn’t know how much time had passed; all he knew was that the door, which he hadn’t fully shut, was gently nudged open a little wider, and he turned, bracing to face whoever it was. But no one stuck their head in, and the door didn’t open any wider. Randy was frowning and trying to decide what the hell that had been about when there was a soft rip, rip beside his bed, and he turned towards the sound just in time to see Salomé appear beside his head.
She mewed in inquiry, then came forward, purring.
Randy gave her a wry smile and turned on his side as he reached over to stroke her head. “Hey, baby,” he said. “What are you doing in here?”
She mewed again, then purred louder as she nuzzled his hand. When he stopped petting, she reached out and nudged his nose with her paw, then, in afterthought, came forward and licked it, too. She decided she liked it and proceeded to give him a thorough tongue bath. Unable to help himself, Randy laughed, and held still, enjoying it in a weird little way.
They held a quiet communion for awhile, Randy petting, Salomé purring and licking, and then after a while she began to nest against his pillow, then curled up right next to Randy’s face, tucked her nose into his neck and her legs against his chest, and went to sleep.
Randy petted her for a few minutes, and followed suit.
He woke briefly, the room fully dark, no light from the hall, the house silent as the bed behind him dipped, and he felt Ethan’s long, warm body slide in against his. He tried to give him some room, but he murmured, too, “Don’t wake the kitten,” and Ethan just stroked his shoulder and whispered, “Go back to sleep, Ace,” and Randy did, a part of him he didn’t even know was tense easing as Ethan wrapped first his arm and then his leg around Randy, and then he fell, easily and deeply, into the sleep of kings.
The good news is that Dreamspinner, whom I am contractually obligated to offer this to first since it has recurring characters from Special Delivery (and whom I would offer it to anyway because they are Home), I found out today does not have a word limit. The story has to legitimately require that many words, but pretty much when I asked how long can it be, the answer was, "As long as it needs to be." It just made me feel really good, because I keep hearing rumors about even big name houses saying, "You have to keep it under 100k because of money" and then here I am with people saying, "Whatever the story needs." Like I said. Home.
So I haven't been posting because I've been busy, but also because (again, on cue!) this book is freaking me out. Too long. Too deep. And it's Randy who is vulnerable more than Ethan, which I shouldn't take so personally, but I am. So lots of raw. And my break over the weekend taught me that breaks are somewhat deadly. I really had to climb back on top of it today, and I barely made it. Of course, I'm going to get galleys soon (had copy edits on Friday. ARG. I have a comma problem.), so I will have to slow again. But yeah. Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming.
Lots of nice moments. I'd tease, but I don't know what to post yet. Maybe just a snippet, though, something out of context and fun? Oh, I've got it. Randy and the kitten. Her name is Salomé.
*
Randy washed his face, brushed his teeth, did all the usual things before bed that he hadn’t done since Ethan had showed up, but he avoided his own reflection while he did it all, and when it was done, he shut off the light and went into his room, peeled off his clothes, put on a pair of knit pants, and climbed into his bed, where he drew the covers to his waist and stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t know what everyone else was doing or what they’d think of his absence, and he didn’t care.
Much.
He didn’t know how much time had passed; all he knew was that the door, which he hadn’t fully shut, was gently nudged open a little wider, and he turned, bracing to face whoever it was. But no one stuck their head in, and the door didn’t open any wider. Randy was frowning and trying to decide what the hell that had been about when there was a soft rip, rip beside his bed, and he turned towards the sound just in time to see Salomé appear beside his head.
She mewed in inquiry, then came forward, purring.
Randy gave her a wry smile and turned on his side as he reached over to stroke her head. “Hey, baby,” he said. “What are you doing in here?”
She mewed again, then purred louder as she nuzzled his hand. When he stopped petting, she reached out and nudged his nose with her paw, then, in afterthought, came forward and licked it, too. She decided she liked it and proceeded to give him a thorough tongue bath. Unable to help himself, Randy laughed, and held still, enjoying it in a weird little way.
They held a quiet communion for awhile, Randy petting, Salomé purring and licking, and then after a while she began to nest against his pillow, then curled up right next to Randy’s face, tucked her nose into his neck and her legs against his chest, and went to sleep.
Randy petted her for a few minutes, and followed suit.
He woke briefly, the room fully dark, no light from the hall, the house silent as the bed behind him dipped, and he felt Ethan’s long, warm body slide in against his. He tried to give him some room, but he murmured, too, “Don’t wake the kitten,” and Ethan just stroked his shoulder and whispered, “Go back to sleep, Ace,” and Randy did, a part of him he didn’t even know was tense easing as Ethan wrapped first his arm and then his leg around Randy, and then he fell, easily and deeply, into the sleep of kings.