Off to the publishers

Today was a very productive day. I wrote two long synopses for the books being published this fall and did a little more writing, rewriting and editing before sending the finals off to the publisher today. They are still swamped but the hard part is over -- putting finishing touches on the novels. I still have the editor to work with but I'm anxious to get moving on the next novel. Still can't decide if it will be the post-apocalyptic novel or something altogether different about obsession and control or a time travel novel that will most likely end up as a serial novel. It's a long story and I won't put the details here since the stories are still embryonic at this stage.

Sometimes I forget how much I enjoy writing until I get into it and the hours race by. If I watched the sun while I was in the zone, I'm sure I'd see it rise and speed across the sky just like in the movies, but my nose is too close to the grindstone. I have found that I enjoy making notes and working out plot and character points in longhand. Anyone who gets hold of my journals will be utterly confused. Day to day thoughts veer off into ruminations about books and stories and notes I keep on books I'm reading or wish to read. I go with the flow, letting the current take me where it will, but I'd definitely like to follow up the publication of three novels this year with at least two more novels next year, including the usual short story and anthology publications, especially since the hard part is over and I've broken through with the first publisher.

I told Beanie today that I'm halfway through the beautiful journal she gave me as a Xmas gift and that she should have included a couple of refills. She said I wasn't worth spending that much money on, so I shall have to spend my hard earned money to stock up on refills. I don't know if its writing with a fountain pen (I've gone through three ink cartridges) in the beautiful journal that has spurred this writing marathon or if it's something more akin to being excited about writing again, but I'm definitely not going to look this gift horse in the mouth -- so to speak.

I've also been reading new authors -- new to me, not new young authors. I called Spike's leman the other day to tell her that I was wrong about Harlan Ellison -- his writing, not his poisonous personality (or lack thereof). While I still don't consider him a genius, I am impressed and quite taking with his literary abilities. His stories are wonderful. Good thing I look at reviews that pan books in which I'm interested before buying a book. The reviews about Angry Candy, a collection of short stories, were quite vitriolic in some cases and that sold me. I'm glad I did because I am really enjoying what I've read so far and reluctantly put the book aside to get down to the business of writing. Some of the stories sparked ideas for stories of my own -- not duplicates of his situations. The imagery sparked ideas for completely different stories. That's what is so magical about reading other authors, even the bad ones. I can't help but be inspired.

However, I still have not encountered the whining and venom the reviewers mentioned with regard to this book, but I still have hope I shall. Even if it's not there, I am glad to have dived into the literary currents with Ellison. As I told Spike's leman though, I still don't get why Connie Willis is considered such a good writer. I'm always left feeling like I've sat down to a banquet and been served one small and rather empty hors d'ouevres.

Well, I'm off to read a review book (I got three new ones) before I give up the light and plunge gratefully into Morpheus's arms. I think I'll just do a little research on Atlas and Hercules before I settle down for a long winter's nap.

That is all. Disperse.