Sunday, November 2, 2008

 

Still Alive. But Only Barely.

I’m on fire. I’ve written 30,000 words in the past four weeks, which is awesome, except that this is the price ya pay. Here's what I look like. And, yes, those are ice packs on my smoking hot wrists. Ouch!

It’s been especially psychotic. Land Wars. Halloween. Grinding out Mind Plague. In my last Catching Up, I forgot to mention that I also had a gig last week at the library in Tracy, which is about an hour’s drive from home. The evening went well. Yes, two of the warm bodies in attendance were my parents, but there were eleven total, with lots of good energy and questions. We sold some books and I was invited back to perhaps teach a writing class this spring, so although the event was a bump in my routine, I felt it was worth it. Plus it’s always fun to get out into the real world and talk to real people.

This week I also fielded an interview request from German web site Phantastik Couch, who will soon be featuring Nano as their book of the month. I also learned that a trade journal called “Technology Review” featured a big thumbs up of the book over there. Can’t beat that! I believe the Phantastic Couch transcript will be translated into German, but, if so, maybe I’ll post the original version here, too, if anyone likes?

More soon.

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Comments:
Ice packs for 30,000 words? Back in my day we would type 100,000 words a week on a manual typewriter through 6 feet of snow.

The scary thing about your word count - it's just short of 1/3 of your manuscript, isn't it?

Keep cranking on it, dude! Your legions of fans are waiting with baited breath. (No, really! I wanna read that book!)
 
Oh, sure, well, I've gotten soft in my old age. When I was a kid, we used to *carve* 20K words into a boulder every week while pushing the same rock uphill. In bare feet. Through rose bushes. Seriously.

30K is actually a quarter of Mind Plague -- the first draft, at least -- because the scope of the story is even bigger than Plague War. When I'm done I'll have to hone it down a good amount, though, or my editor will smack me with a gardening tool. ;)
 
Guys, please, there are tender ears out here ;)
 
Sorry, Sherry. What I meant to say was that when I was a kid, we sprawled around on the beach all day, getting neck messages, while occasionally formulating a coherent sentence that our butlers would transcribe for us with lovely ostrich-feather pens upon the thickest parchment. :>
 
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