Progress Report, in which I discuss occupational hazards

Some 11K worth of rewrite on From Earth I Have Arisen, which, when combined with the cutting of another 900 words, brings Magic Meter here:


Family obligations (the good kind) hindered progress, but again the trend is in the right direction, so I suppose I won’t complain too much.  I was particularly pleased that I managed to trim another 900 words, as I know that I will be adding an entire chapter to the end of this thing.

Some professional setbacks had me quite down in the mouth last week.  It rather amazes, the speed with which we writers go from ecstatic to despondent.  Any occupation with this many ups, downs, and hairpin turns should come with a safety harness.  Seriously.  If OSHA ever gets wind of this, there could be sanctions.

Anyway, I’m pulling myself out of the self-pity pit and soldiering on.  As one does.

It occurs to me that I’ve been remiss in providing snippets.  So here you go:


He saw no other living soul along the way. The grassy plains, mostly brown with lateness of the season, spread from horizon to horizon in every direction. Occasional flocks of migrating birds flew overhead, including a honking V of geese, but other than that, the land was silent and empty. That was nothing new, of course; the world had gotten awfully quiet since the Red Death. Wayne usually enjoyed the peace. He considered it one of the few good things that had come of the plague. America had been such a dadgum noisy, frenetic place in the old days. For whatever reason, though, as he made his way down County Road H40, the stillness struck him as somehow eerie, as if the countryside were a giant, open-air tomb.

Two updates for Write Club, both of them novel queries:  Tier one rejects from an agent and from Angry Robot.  Response times, nine and 97 days, respectively.

And I’m out.

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Progress Report, in which I demonstrate the dollar value of genre fiction

Notched another 7500 words’ worth of rewrite on From Earth I Have Arisen, bringing Magic Meter to here:


A better week than the previous one, but still nowhere near as productive as I would like.  At least the trend is in the right direction.

That big cut I mentioned last week ended up being bigger than I thought–nearly 3K words.  And the fact that such a large excision required very little stitching afterward tells me that I never needed that scene. 

The amusing part?  Even when I first drafted the scene, I didn’t know what its purpose was.  I plunged ahead with it, anyway, confident that the muse would fill me in sooner or later.  Turns out that its purpose seems to be an object lesson in what not to do.  Or something like that.

I spent much of the previous weekend at a new local con, Contagion.  It was much more media focused than most cons I usually attend, and there was no party scene to speak of(!).  Even so, I got some networking done, and even managed to sell a few books–enough to cover the price of parking, with a clear $5.00 left over.  (Thanks, Cindy!)

Hey, don’t mock.  Have you seen the pay rates for genre fiction?  Five bucks is five bucks.

No updates for Write Club.

I’m out.

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Progress Report, in which I am humbled

I had a lot of trouble beginning the first draft of From Earth I Have Arisen, so it perhaps should come as no surprise that the same has been true of the rewrite.  Yes, I had some great excuses for last week–I mean, some really primo excuses.  Helping family members pack due to rising flood waters, for instance. 

Now, come on.  You have to admit that’s a great excuse.

But yeah, it’s just that–an excuse.  Don’t think I don’t know it.

Nonetheless, I managed to bull my way through a rewrite of the first two chapters of From Earth.  I humbly present the return of Magic Meter to mark the occasion:

I’m hoping I can cut it enough to make up for all the new material I’ll be adding to the end.  One major cut is coming right up, but methinks I’ll need more than that. 

On the plus side, a new idea for the revamped ending has me intrigued.  If I can pull it off.

Write Club update:  Personalized rejection from an agent who had requested a full.  Had my hopes up for that one, I’m afraid.  But the writing gods saw fit to chastise me for my laziness.  All praise the writing gods.  Yee.  Ha.

I trudge on, appropriately humbled.

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