Writerly navelgazing, plus bonus Austen
My mother has become obsessed with BBC adaptations of classic literature, and tonight we watched the first half of the 2009 Emma. It was charming and fun, and Mom loved it, much to my amusement. ("I want her to end up with what's-his-name. Mr. McKinley.") Because Dad works nights at the post office, and because Netflix has amazing turnaround, we should have the second half on Friday.
This reminds me that I've only seen one version of Persuasion, the one with Amanda Root and Ciarán Hinds, and that I really should do something about that. There's a feature-length film from 2007 that I'd like to see, but I don't think it's popular enough to have gotten a really high-profile adaptation. It's a pity, as I think I may love that book more than Pride and Prejudice. (Scandalous, I know!)
In unrelated news, I wrote a query letter last night. It was just an exercise, as I'm still not done with even the first draft of The Librarians, but I wanted to see if I could do it. It wasn't as painful as I was expecting, though I doubt the final version will look anything like this one, but it did help me put voice to some things I've only been thinking up until now.
I'm beginning to worry about the fundamental structure of my book. Does it begin too early? How can it possibly begin anywhere other than where it does? Have I successfully woven subplots around a single story arc, or is it just a series of mini-crises building to an unrelated climax? Is Charlotte too passive at the beginning, or can her sister's forceful personality and her own active observation carry the story until she's ready to assert herself?
I've written enough of it that I think I'm done with surprises. No more chapter nines, which came out of nowhere and took on a life of their own; no more Dr. Lansings, without whom I now can't imagine this book but who came close to not existing. There are plenty of holes to fill in, of course. The manuscript looks a lot like Swiss cheese, with bits missing from almost every chapter, and then there's the ending, which I have yet to touch. It's all in my head, though. I know what I need to write down.
That's disappointing, in a way, and it's also alarming. Just a few weeks ago I was telling myself I'd work out all the problems, that I'd know what to write down when I got to that point. Now they're worked out. There's not much room to play around. I'm a few solid weekends away from being done with my rough draft, and then it's time to revise. I look forward to the line edits. There's plenty of crappy prose here, but there's good stuff too, and I have faith in my ability to fix the words. But what if I can't fix the story? What if I can, but I have to carve up everything I have to do it? What if it's haaaard?
Having B. read it was quite helpful. We've written together as long as we've known each other, so I wasn't as nervous as I might have been. She found things that weren't working, and talking with her helped me work out how to fix them. Still, except for those two weeks with her I've been going at this in my own private bubble, and it's starting to feel claustrophobic. The inside of my own head is looking a little too familiar. I'm going to need something else very soon--a break, or other opinions, or maybe just some perspective.
This reminds me that I've only seen one version of Persuasion, the one with Amanda Root and Ciarán Hinds, and that I really should do something about that. There's a feature-length film from 2007 that I'd like to see, but I don't think it's popular enough to have gotten a really high-profile adaptation. It's a pity, as I think I may love that book more than Pride and Prejudice. (Scandalous, I know!)
In unrelated news, I wrote a query letter last night. It was just an exercise, as I'm still not done with even the first draft of The Librarians, but I wanted to see if I could do it. It wasn't as painful as I was expecting, though I doubt the final version will look anything like this one, but it did help me put voice to some things I've only been thinking up until now.
I'm beginning to worry about the fundamental structure of my book. Does it begin too early? How can it possibly begin anywhere other than where it does? Have I successfully woven subplots around a single story arc, or is it just a series of mini-crises building to an unrelated climax? Is Charlotte too passive at the beginning, or can her sister's forceful personality and her own active observation carry the story until she's ready to assert herself?
I've written enough of it that I think I'm done with surprises. No more chapter nines, which came out of nowhere and took on a life of their own; no more Dr. Lansings, without whom I now can't imagine this book but who came close to not existing. There are plenty of holes to fill in, of course. The manuscript looks a lot like Swiss cheese, with bits missing from almost every chapter, and then there's the ending, which I have yet to touch. It's all in my head, though. I know what I need to write down.
That's disappointing, in a way, and it's also alarming. Just a few weeks ago I was telling myself I'd work out all the problems, that I'd know what to write down when I got to that point. Now they're worked out. There's not much room to play around. I'm a few solid weekends away from being done with my rough draft, and then it's time to revise. I look forward to the line edits. There's plenty of crappy prose here, but there's good stuff too, and I have faith in my ability to fix the words. But what if I can't fix the story? What if I can, but I have to carve up everything I have to do it? What if it's haaaard?
Having B. read it was quite helpful. We've written together as long as we've known each other, so I wasn't as nervous as I might have been. She found things that weren't working, and talking with her helped me work out how to fix them. Still, except for those two weeks with her I've been going at this in my own private bubble, and it's starting to feel claustrophobic. The inside of my own head is looking a little too familiar. I'm going to need something else very soon--a break, or other opinions, or maybe just some perspective.