The Perfect Ending--I hope.

This is the closest I've been to a deadline without having a complete first draft done, and I'm not liking it. I've come to discover I don't work very well when there's a loud clock ticking in my head, but I really hate to ask for more time. It makes me feel like I'm failing. Professionals don't ask for more time. And, I already received an extension because I was struggling a bit with editing one book, writing another one, and trying to market...and the marketing has really gone downhill as there just wasn't enough time to get it all done. The first book in the Merry and Bright Handcrafted Mystery Series (series title changed from Twas the Murder Before Christmas), was originally scheduled for March and we moved it to January. At that time, I had everything under control and then my well-laid plans changed. The biggest being I knew that I needed to start over with book 2 as there were unresolved life (not mystery) issues from the first book readers needed answers to. So, I started a new book 2.

And now, the endings--yes I have written more than one--just haven't been right. The first ending had a darker tone than the rest of the book. It didn't fit. I went back to the beginning, made some changes to the first half of the story, and saw where the ending needed to go. Or so I thought. Again, didn't work. Merry's personality seemed to change. She sounded too much like another character of mine and not Merry. Once again, I scraped the ending, returned to the beginning, smoothed out the plot and transitions in the other chapters.

Onto another ending...and the book stalled. I have finally caught onto the fact that when I stall it's because something isn't working in a previous chapter. I went back to the beginning and edited again. That's when I discovered that I loved the first 80% of the book, but the story once again took on a slightly different tone when one of the secondary characters was on screen. Toward the end of the book, whenever this one character interacted with the heroine it threw off the story so I had to downplay this character.

I'm now on my fourth, fifth, possibly sixth ending as I've lost count and hope this one sticks. I have kept the other endings...they might work in another book. 

What's Next?

It's been awhile since I've found myself pondering the writer dilemma of what book will I write next. Last few years, I knew exactly what book was on the horizon. This time the choices or seemingly endless. It's an exciting and scary time, especially when so many ideas battle for my attention. What direction do I go? Stick with mystery or go back for a moment to romantic suspense? Or something different? Should I start by outlining an idea or two and see which one springs to life? Or work on a project that I had set aside three years ago and revamp it? For that story, I know I want to switch it from an inspirational romantic suspense to a "regular" romantic suspense. I'm just not sure if that's the best project for me or one of my other ideas.

The more I think about it, more questions enter my mind. It's a confusing time for my muse. There's one project on the list that at one time had me so excited to write. I had dreams about it. Scribbled down scenes on any available piece of paper. Now that I'll have the time to work on it, my heart doesn't yearn to write it as it once did. I feel kind of blah about it. I still think it's a fabulous idea but I just have no desire to enter into that world.

Fortunately, Altered to Death will be back to me for editing so I'll have another month before I have to make a decision on the next book-length project. I do have 2 short stories I know I'll be working on so maybe once I'm done with them, I'll know for certain what's next.

DON'T FORGET TO VOTE!

I have been having a whole lot of problems with the book now due at my publisher December 1. I have fought and struggled with it, and grumbled and complained about it (sometimes on this blog) to no avail. Every sentence seemed to have to be dragged out kicking and screaming. It was almost as if I’d forgotten how to write creative fiction. Then, all of a sudden, as I neared what I hope will be the next to last chapter, it suddenly unfolded. I can see the story now as coherent and workable. It needs polishing, it needs those final two chapters, but I’m going to send a viable version of it to Berkley by the end of this month. Whew!

Unless you caught me right as I was posting this, then while you read it I am serving as an Election Judge in Minneapolis. This year I am anticipating a turnout probably close to the turnout we get in a year we elect a President. This has been an important campaign, possibly one that will mark a turning point in the whole history of our nation. Since I am working as a judge in a precinct not my own, I voted by absentee ballot several weeks ago. It sure made all the campaign commercials tedious since then. Not that they weren’t getting tedious in any case. I will be interested in seeing the results Wednesday morning.

I once owned a Scottish terrier named Piper. He was a bold and adventurous dog, playful and endearing. But not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Every morning I’d take him for a walk, during which he kept a sharp eye out for squirrels. His one big goal in life was to catch a squirrel. Now there was a squirrel that lived in a big tree in our back yard. It was to one side of the lot, facing a narrow walkway to the sidewalk in front of our house. The walkway ran between the house and a tall plank wall that bordered the parking lot of the apartment building next door. One morning Piper saw the squirrel about halfway up that walk and went after it, yanking the leash out of my hand. The squirrel dashed madly for the tree, barely scooting up it in time to escape Piper’s snapping jaws. Piper came trotting back to me, very pleased with himself – he’d shown that squirrel! Oddly enough, the next morning, there was that squirrel on the walkway again. This time I dropped the leash and Piper went racing after the squirrel, who again swept up the tree just ahead of Piper’s shiny white teeth. It became a routine, the squirrel waiting for Piper, Piper charging madly, the squirrel going up the tree. After a week or so, I realized the squirrel was edging closer to our end of the walkway, and barely escaping up its tree. Piper, now anticipating the squirrel’s presence, would bounce out our front door ready to show that squirrel he was not to be trifled with. I stopped being afraid the stupid squirrel was going to be torn to pieces as I realized that squirrel was playing a game with Piper. He cut his retreat so increasingly fine that I was amazed he never lost the end of his tail. Piper would not slow down as he reached the tree, but actually ran up the trunk a yard or so before falling back to the ground. His proud prance as he came trotting back to continue our walk seemed to indicate he never caught on that he was in fact being trifled with. Poor old fellow, being gamed by a squirrel!