The time has come to work on the second draft for the editor, taking into account all of the suggested changes, and there are quite a few. So much for thinking I could put in an almost flawless manuscript.

…

I still haven’t recovered from everything that went wrong yesterday. It was one of those days where you finally leave the room, and almost make a promise not to step in it again until the phase of the moon changes.

I’m sure it’s the moon out of phase, not me suffering the consequences of trying to fly at 30 thousand feet without oxygen.

No, I shouldn’t be using analogies…

Today the sky is blue and the promise of summer is just over the horizon, those long hot days with intense humidity that makes any thought of doing anything a chore.

How did I just turn what is a glorious day outside into something awful?

The truth is I want to get on with the revolution, but all this other stuff going on is getting in the way. Dancing with the police chief, checking out the spies, wannabe spies, security staff, security forces, people who are great and people who want to be great, all intermingling, all with an agenda, all going to play their part, however large or small, in the eventual calamity.

This can be a problem, you can’t just cut to the revolution, you have to make sure every participant is known to the reader, who they are and where they stand, and possibly what they’re going to do when push comes to shove.

Where is our main character?

In the middle of it all, as he should be, like standing on the deck of a sinking ship…

The time has come to work on the second draft for the editor, taking into account all of the suggested changes, and there are quite a few. So much for thinking I could put in an almost flawless manuscript.

…

It’s halfway, but it doesn’t feel like it in terms of getting the story done. It’s certainly more than halfway in terms of getting words on paper.

The problem is, at this point, I should be reasonably happy with not only the progress but the quality of the story.

The thing is, I’m going to bed completely dissatisfied with the direction it’s going, and the characters. Of course, this is usual, I always have misgivings about everything while deep in the throes of getting the initial story down.

I know I/m not going to have a masterpiece in the first draft, but that still doesn’t mean I can’t have high expectations.

Maybe I need to take a step back.

Maybe I need to go back over some of the writing and see what it is that’s making me doubt myself.

Any other time, I would put it to one side and work on something else, let the story go round and round in my head until it works itself out. That sometimes takes months, and there’s a reason why some books take a year, or more, to write.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the time.

It’s going to be an uneasy sleep, if I get any.

The time has come to work on the second draft for the editor, taking into account all of the suggested changes, and there are quite a few. So much for thinking I could put in an almost flawless manuscript.

…

It’s halfway, but it doesn’t feel like it in terms of getting the story done. It’s certainly more than halfway in terms of getting words on paper.

The problem is, at this point, I should be reasonably happy with not only the progress but the quality of the story.

The thing is, I’m going to bed completely dissatisfied with the direction it’s going, and the characters. Of course, this is usual, I always have misgivings about everything while deep in the throes of getting the initial story down.

I know I/m not going to have a masterpiece in the first draft, but that still doesn’t mean I can’t have high expectations.

Maybe I need to take a step back.

Maybe I need to go back over some of the writing and see what it is that’s making me doubt myself.

Any other time, I would put it to one side and work on something else, let the story go round and round in my head until it works itself out. That sometimes takes months, and there’s a reason why some books take a year, or more, to write.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the time.

It’s going to be an uneasy sleep, if I get any.

The time has come to work on the second draft for the editor, taking into account all of the suggested changes, and there are quite a few. So much for thinking I could put in an almost flawless manuscript.

…

It’s halfway, but it doesn’t feel like it in terms of getting the story done. It’s certainly more than halfway in terms of getting words on paper.

The problem is, at this point, I should be reasonably happy with not only the progress but the quality of the story.

The thing is, I’m going to bed completely dissatisfied with the direction it’s going, and the characters. Of course, this is usual, I always have misgivings about everything while deep in the throes of getting the initial story down.

I know I/m not going to have a masterpiece in the first draft, but that still doesn’t mean I can’t have high expectations.

Maybe I need to take a step back.

Maybe I need to go back over some of the writing and see what it is that’s making me doubt myself.

Any other time, I would put it to one side and work on something else, let the story go round and round in my head until it works itself out. That sometimes takes months, and there’s a reason why some books take a year, or more, to write.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the time.

It’s going to be an uneasy sleep, if I get any.

The time has come to work on the second draft for the editor, taking into account all of the suggested changes, and there are quite a few. So much for thinking I could put in an almost flawless manuscript.

…

It’s halfway, but it doesn’t feel like it in terms of getting the story done. It’s certainly more than halfway in terms of getting words on paper.

The problem is, at this point, I should be reasonably happy with not only the progress but the quality of the story.

The thing is, I’m going to bed completely dissatisfied with the direction it’s going, and the characters. Of course, this is usual, I always have misgivings about everything while deep in the throes of getting the initial story down.

I know I/m not going to have a masterpiece in the first draft, but that still doesn’t mean I can’t have high expectations.

Maybe I need to take a step back.

Maybe I need to go back over some of the writing and see what it is that’s making me doubt myself.

Any other time, I would put it to one side and work on something else, let the story go round and round in my head until it works itself out. That sometimes takes months, and there’s a reason why some books take a year, or more, to write.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the time.

It’s going to be an uneasy sleep, if I get any.

The time has come to work on the second draft for the editor, taking into account all of the suggested changes, and there are quite a few. So much for thinking I could put in an almost flawless manuscript.

…

24 hours is a long time in writing.

The course of a story could go in almost any direction, other than the one you planned, and despair could easily set in.

Sunday, of course, is the day for lunch or dinner, and the family get together, and we try to do this every week. Covid put a dent in it, but now we are purportedly out of the woods, it’s back on.

And, like weddings and funerals, discussions can get heated. It’s not the distraction I was looking for, just a leisurely lunch, several glasses of wine, and congenial conversation.

It was anything but congenial, and a stark reminder of how divided a nation we have become. Covid has a lot to answer for, along with those who are peddling misinformation.

But, there’s writing to be done, and I have to get off my soapbox now.

Things are going to liven up from now on, and the various parties, good bad or indifferent are going to be pulled into the fray, willingly or not.

I’ve decided the main character will run into the anonymous girl in white, just before he discovers who she is.

And, this is the point where the lead into the revolution begins.

The time has come to work on the second draft for the editor, taking into account all of the suggested changes, and there are quite a few. So much for thinking I could put in an almost flawless manuscript.

…

It’s 13 days in, and unlike many in the workforce, there is no chance of taking a break. Writing, for most of us, is not a nine-to-five job where at the end of the day you throw everything in the top drawer of your desk and go home.

Chances are, you’re already home, with papers, research, and a whole lot more scattered around you. You look at the clock and think any normal sensible person would be anywhere but where you are.

My say is nowhere bring done. After 8 hours of distractions, and trying to focus on what is important, for the umpteenth time, I’ve failed.

I haven’t written the required word count.

13 days in, I’m starting to feel the effects of working continuously on the job at hand. It’s not the physical part of the job, it’s the mental effect.

5 pm, and you can see that the day is not going to end well, or worse, that it’s never going to end. Perhaps having a proper plan which all but allows the story to write itself.

Even then, quite often things don’t go according to plan. Stories have a habit of going in directions that never seemed possible at the beginning.

Of course, that’s your fault because you gave the character life, and it chose to go its own way.

Damn characters.

So, I’m calling the characters into a meeting and telling them they need to rein in this free will I keep hearing about, and follow the path assigned to them.

I’ll let you know how it went tomorrow.

The time has come to work on the second draft for the editor, taking into account all of the suggested changes, and there are quite a few. So much for thinking I could put in an almost flawless manuscript.

…

24 hours is a long time in writing.

The course of a story could go in almost any direction, other than the one you planned, and despair could easily set in.

Sunday, of course, is the day for lunch or dinner, and the family get together, and we try to do this every week. Covid put a dent in it, but now we are purportedly out of the woods, it’s back on.

And, like weddings and funerals, discussions can get heated. It’s not the distraction I was looking for, just a leisurely lunch, several glasses of wine, and congenial conversation.

It was anything but congenial, and a stark reminder of how divided a nation we have become. Covid has a lot to answer for, along with those who are peddling misinformation.

But, there’s writing to be done, and I have to get off my soapbox now.

Things are going to liven up from now on, and the various parties, good bad or indifferent are going to be pulled into the fray, willingly or not.

I’ve decided the main character will run into the anonymous girl in white, just before he discovers who she is.

And, this is the point where the lead into the revolution begins.