Nice 1000 word clip today. Parts will need dusting in the morning. Today was mostly action based, which I find makes for an easier cleanup, since the parapgraphs are less dense than standard narrative. Dialog exchanges are also brief here, as this is hardly the time for monologues.

My mind keeps wandering ahead to the last scene, even though there’s two scenes preceding it. I’m considering a bottle of Tanqueray gin ( no carbs, thanks ) for toasting purposes on Sunday. Who knows when I’ll get another chance to celebrate the book.

This is a hell of a weekend for the last mile, too. The leaves are peaking, turning deep, brilliant colors of red and orange.

Dealing with the optometrist ate a huge chunk of the early afternoon, but I must say, staring at the screen is much easier with fresh minted lenses. It’s the difference between eye twitches forcing me off five minutes of every two hours, and putting in a five-hour session.

As I approach the 90,000 word mark, one thought is clear: the last miles are far, far easier than the first. In April, I had roughly 30,000 words and a hunch. My bet was, the back end of the story would largely write itself. And it has, with a few exceptions. I had no empirical basis for this observation, no baseline. Since the first 30,000 words took nearly six months, a window of eighteen to twenty-one months from start to completion appeared reasonable. The hunch panned out, and the blame for the long ramp up laid entirely with the beginning.

Because the first fifty pages are so critical – often writers never get past that point when an agent considers their work, and some never even get that far — I took enormous pains to get them in the pocket the first time round. After the frustration with the other book, and the endless drafts, I couldn’t face the task of writing for a year or more, only to return to discover a steaming pile had replaced what seemed like the good stuff. Straight up, Doctor, it didn’t look that bad when I touched it last. In a way, that’s true, the text didn’t look so awful. It just read like a train wreck.

As long as there’s electricity, this manuscript will be done on Sunday. I have some feedback and a list of to fix items I compiled along the way, but the second week of November it’s off to the pre-submit readers.

I have to say there is a certain sadness that hangs over the writing sessions as of late. Most of the time, I’m buzzing as if on a full out gin binge. Then reality beckons from the corners like a lesson you don’t want to forget, but never want to remember.

This book will die for me soon.

Just finished reading Telling the Story by Peter Rubie. The book is a guide to writing and selling narrative nonfiction. Fiction is my first love, though ninety percent of books sold are nonfiction ( perhaps that amour needs rethinking ) and I enjoy biographies and historical pieces. The Power Broker by Robert Caro is an excellent example of nonfiction narrative.

Peter offers two excellent quotes:

“Unless you have been published, you are not the best judge of your work.”

“Beginning writers seem to fall in love with description in their early drafts and forget that description, like adjectives, should be sprinkled on like salt, not butter.”

I’ll second both of these.

The book covers drafting nonfiction proposals, the value of literary agents in placing manuscripts ( Peter Rubie admits his bias here, he is one ), why projects get rejected and what to look for in a good agent. Included are several nonfiction book proposals for reference. As a bonus, it’s very well written.

Eight hundred plus words today, every last one a battle.

Following the deficit from yesterday, I revisited the two page synopsis first thing this morning. Nothing like writing deferred. A few plot points obsoleted themselves in the last month, so they were stricken. One point needed to be added. Continuity gaps between the manuscript and synopsis happen when I neglect a review for too long. I also caught several occurrences of a horrible character name, intended entirely as a placeholder – like the Working Title above the word count meter — until a proper one revealed itself. Only that baptism was two months back and still, there the name was in black and white…Diego Sterling. Oh, the horror.

After the synopsis, an idea hit me for a very small scene, which wrote itself quickly and in what I believe is the correct spot. Freewheeling like that is a rarity on this project, usually a lot more anguish and brainstorming drives this bus.

Then I wrote two pseudo-pages. Those who program might recognize a similar term, pseudo-code, which is where I nicked the idea. Pseudo-code are snippets that probably won’t compile, but demonstrate the basic flow structure of a script or module. Pseudo-pages are the same idea, just written in English ( or whatever language desired ). They are scattered, resemble mental scribbles, and sort of make sense to the author but not very much to a casual observer. I wanted to be clear on the last 15-20 pages and aware of the loose ends that need tying. The exercise forced both.

It looks like the ending will answer all but three points: one major, two minor. The big point everyone will notice, well, if I do the deed right, everyone will. The minor ones are more subtle. Not that the Easter eggs are for me, I’d just like more than one way into the next episode.

Then the real writing started. Once I caught sight of the finish line, that went pretty well. Another handy benefit of the pseudo-pages.