I've got about half an hour before I launch into glory time, just enough to throw down a few sentences. It's one of my gazillion resolutions to blog more in 2010. Not so much in the form of longwinded fragments, but a dollop here and there of the daily cream.
So what is this glory time, you may be wondering? Is it solitary pooping in the comfort of your favorite bathroom? Is it trying to balance cucumbers on your eyelids while immersing your hands into a barrel of paraffin wax? Or is it downward facing dog with a side of upward facing crow? So many glorious possibilities. But no, glory time is simply the daily three-hour (at the minimum), uninterrupted romp through the world of Frozen, the novel I've been working on for about seven months now. I am in the second major edit phase, after receiving comments from my wonderful plot readers, and now it's time to craft a novel out of a manuscript.
Writing a novel is weird. Sometimes it’s like putting your awesome pants on and going out for a stroll. Other times it’s like trying to do the running man in chainmail. Totally genius thoughts twirl like dervishes in your mind, making it impossible to fall asleep, only to disappear into the ether by morning. Totally idiotic thoughts twirl like jesters on the page, taunting your insecurities to come out and play. Those don’t disappear automatically, however. They have to be rooted out and deleted one by one.
Finding the plot and meeting the characters was the hardest part for me. There were days, weeks, months where I’d sit there and wonder why the hell I quit my day job. Then one day, my Frankenstein’s monster was suddenly whole. It got up and lumbered towards me, shocked as I was at its completion. I immediately sent my little monster off to my friends to coddle for a couple weeks, and now the monster is back in my care.
Will I be able to magically transform this little gremlin into a charming young pup to be snatched up by the thousands? Or is this little monster doomed to a life under my mattress? We’ll see. It’s glory time.
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