End of Week Blahs

It's Friday--see me dance a little jig. Actually, I did the jig when the thunderstorm hit and I had to shut down the computer. Can't do revisions and risk being blown up by lightning, right? And for any readers who don't believe lightning kills computers, I've just read several on-line accounts of computers being melted right down to the backup drives. If your surge protectors are old, they can fry too. Keep them updated. Here's a quicky forum http://forums.techguy.org/reviews/534419-surge-protection.html

Since my luck with technology is bad, I just shut everything down and pray a lot. And goof off until the storm goes away.

Nina thanks me for loving my readers---that's an easy one. They don't nitpick me to death! If the next time anyone sees me, I'm cross-eyed, blame it on these revisions. I'm trying hard not to rant, because they do make the book much better, but oh, my poor bruised baby!

Running in Place

Still in revision heck, staring at a page with more editor notes on it than manuscript words. One step forward, two steps back as I keep carrying these notes to earlier pages, then making changes to all of the pages afterward to reflect the first changes, then changing more pages for the secondary changes.... Don't tell me books aren't worth the price you pay for them! I figure by the time I work through this, I'm earning two cents an hour.

But I get to go talk to some fun writers tonight over a lovely pasta dinner. Surely that's worth the trouble!

Revision heck

Will be plugging away at revisions for next few weeks, so anyone who has questions on any topic under the sun, please jump in and give me a break! I can't figure out how other people have time to cruise around the internet and read other blogs that they cleverly link to their own blogs. Heck, I can't even figure out how to create the links even if I knew where to find them. It sure looks like an easy way to come up with new topics. But one of these days... I'll probably shoot the computer before figuring it out.

Today, I had to add a scene adding details of the French political situation in 1791. Do I hear any groans? I recognize that details bring a historical to life, but how many American readers know about the fort at Montmedy? Or care? Or would recognize Bouille's name if I mention it? Or know that the king's brothers were no longer royal ducs by 1791 or why? So how the dickens am I supposed to detail where the king was running off to on his failed escape? If he'd only been smarter and made a friend of a well known king or two... Like the King of England maybe. It would make my life so much easier!

blogging on the run

I have to write my wordwenches.com blog today in my spare minutes between revising dog entrails, dealing with plumbers, making executive decisions, and drumming up supper. I think I'll pretend I'm one of those fortunate writers who can sail around the world on a private yacht dreaming up ideas for books to call into her assistant to research. Where are those darned assistants when you need them?

Nina, if Sherrie has critiqued your work, you've been treated very, very well. I should be so lucky!

Revisions--Reader Beware

Wow, I really was battered Friday. Didn't even title my post! Baaaad, Pat.

Today, all is quiet except for the nails being pounded into my head by the revisions that finally showed up. For whatever reason, the FedEx man traveled all the way around to the back of the house and left them by my garage door. That would be fine if I ever went anywhere, but I don't.

All right all you aspiring authors out there--no one ever tells you about the dark side of this job. I'm here to sprinkle you with iron dust instead of gold. No matter how logically you can look at five pages of single spaced criticism, it hurts. It means your baby is UGGGGLLLLLLYYYYYY.

Worse, once you crawl through all the horrors of things you've obviously done dreadfully wrong, then you open your pristine manuscript--the one you mailed off so confidently and proudly a few months before---and all of a sudden, it's dog crap. Nasty smelly awful stuff with entrails scribbled all over it. Even your mother wouldn't want to look at it.

Or maybe I'm just a little emotional.