Edits pile up like leaves

Deliverance of the Damned revisions are well under way (that’s the sequel to Dominion of the Damned,, my Walking Dead meets True Blood post-apocalyptic zombie/vampire mashup, in case you’re new around here). I’ve got six chapters all cleaned up and shipped off to the editor (still a.k.a. my husband).

The good news is that he shouldn’t have a whole lot to do, so his edits shouldn’t take long. The bad news is that there are 36 chapters plus an epilogue (38 if I end up splitting up two extra-lengthy chapters), so at the rate of two chapters a day I’m currently managing, this is going to take a few weeks.

Oh, and thanks to all the rain we keep getting, we keep having to spend all the pretty days like today out in the yard cleaning up the never-ending supply of dead leaves, so that’s slowing things down, too.

all-the-leaves
SO many leaves

I tried to convince Mr. B. that we should just get a leaf blower and blow them all into the woods and be done with it, but he thinks that would just make the fleas and ticks worse by giving them more places to hide and breed, so he’s determined to gather and burn them. At least it’s good exercise and an excuse to spend my days outside.

But one day soon I shall get through these edits, and then I can get busy drafting Desolation of the Damned, which I’ve already begun to sketch out. Wouldn’t it be awesome if I could get this entire trilogy done and published this year? I sure think so.

I Did an Interview and Other Announcements

Here are various and sundry news-ish items you might like to know about:

  • I was interviewed by author H. Shussman for her blog. Among other things, I discuss who my favorite (of my own) characters are, which authors inspired and shaped my own writing, and my advice about both traditional and self-publishing. Head here to check it out.
  • Yesterday I sat down and started plotting the next entry in the Restless Spirits series, which I’m tentatively calling Bound Spirits. I still need to flesh out the subplots and put everything into outline form before I begin the first draft, but I think the main plot is pretty well hammered out.
  • Lastly, this doesn’t really have anything to do with my books, but I want to offer congrats to my pal Erin Palette for making it to the 10th bloggiversary of Lurking Rhythmically, which has featured a couple of my short stories in recent years. Erin is a vastly talented writer in her own right. If you’ve never read her blog, head over there to see what you’ve been missing for the last decade.

And hey, don’t forget that Love Letter (a Restless Spirits novella) is now available for 99 cents wherever e-books are sold! Here’s the Amazon link, and here’s the Vinspire page with all of the links to buy.

loveletter-1400x2100

 

Back to the Word Mines

Today’s my first full day back to work, so I guess that makes it the true start of my new year. So far I’m having a pretty great day, productivity-wise. I tried out a new morning routine designed to get my butt planted in my writing chair early enough to give me a solid two hours of writing before I have to switch my focus to other things, and so far, it’s working.

I used up most of my two hours this morning transferring my outline and what I’ve got written so far of Ghost of a Chance into Scrivener. Normally I start projects out there in the first place, but for NaNoWriMo I just kept everything in a Google Doc because it was simpler and faster. But now everything is neatly organized in its proper home, which makes me happy, and I still had time left to get in 466 new words. I expect that tomorrow’s word count will be much larger.

That brings Ghost to a total-so-far of 19,084 (I’d reported earlier that it was over 20K, but as I moved to Scrivener I cleaned up a lot of notes that were figuring into my word count and did some editing), and of course total words of fiction this year is 466.

After my writing time was up I took an hour-long break to eat lunch (leftover homemade chicken and rice soup, made by yours truly instead of Mr. B for a change; it was yum, if I do say so myself) and vacuum up (with the help of Mr. B) pine needles and other Christmas detritus (we took the tree down and packed away all the decorations yesterday). And now, with some e-mail and client communication out of the way, I’m commencing the start of BloPoWriMo–that’s Blog Post Writing Month. I don’t have a specific goal for this. I just hope to write and stockpile as many posts as I can for both blogs to cover times when I’m either too busy to blog or just don’t have anything to say. Currently I have lots of things to say on many subjects, and not a lot of freelance work in my queue, so I might as well take advantage of it.

And that’s my year so far. How is yours going?

Before I leave you, here’s an unspoilery snippet of today’s output:

Something crashed behind him. He spun around to see a stack of games from Jimmy’s bookshelf spilled all over the floor. Monopoly money scattered everywhere, mixed with Risk soldiers and Scrabble tiles. Out of reflex more than anything else, Doug knelt to pick up the mess. But as he reached for a handful of the letter tiles, they each started to flip over of their own accord, arranging themselves face up.

Doug sat back on his heels and watched in a dreamlike haze of surreality as the tiles gathered themselves into a neat pile on the floor. Then, one by one, they rearranged themselves into a message:

“HI DOUGIE”

Doug’s throat tightened. He put his hand over his mouth to hold in the tidal wave of mixed emotions that welled up. When he was able to speak again, his voice came out in a shaky whisper. “Jimmy? Is it really you?”

The tiles spelled out, “YES.” Then, after a moment, added, “YOU DOOF.”

A Word Count and a Snippet

Today’s count: 550
Total: 67,897

The snippet:

He needed a distraction. He looked around for something to read, but if she had any books, they were apparently still packed in one of the boxes stacked at the other end of the room, and he wasn’t about to dig through them without permission. With a sigh, he hauled himself out of the chair, its cushions so deep they threatened to swallow him. He checked to make sure the baby was still breathing freely, then went out to the porch, leaving the door open behind him so he could hear if Noah ran into trouble.

As he leaned against a post and stared out at the night, his fingers itched to hold a cigarette. It had been a lifetime since he’d last smoked one. The cravings had mostly died along with his humanity. But it had been a comforting habit, even moreso in a time when nobody knew it could be a deadly one, and sometimes he still missed it.