A writer, reloaded

After a lot of back and forth, got the synopsis for the next book into good working order. For those around the site for a long time, the story for The Last Track revealed itself after wandering around for more than a year through various drafts. While everything worked out in the end, I wanted to try doing it a little differently for this book. Thus, the two page synopsis.

The Last Track actually had no synopsis until after the book was finished and agents started requesting one in response to queries, very late in their consideration process. Not only does the synopsis make for one point of stress, having one in hand relieves the concern about whether there is a viable story.

Speaking of “this book”, besides the pre-production technique, trying something different with the title as well.

Because it took so long to get the first book into print, two of the titles had to be scrapped when they appeared in new releases by Very Big Authors. Complete coincidence, but irritating when I was certain about having the perfect title a first and then a second time. So I have decided on a throwaway title for now, one I don’t care about in any fashion; it’s just about giving the book a name. Much easier referring to a manuscript by title rather than “the novel” or “this book.”

The throwaway title: The Cropsey Effect.

Maybe the “fake” title will serve the project better than the “real” one. Ah, time will tell.

Carpal tunnel seldom makes for a happy writer. Few writers I know are really satisfied anyway, but not being able to write makes for an especially crusty sort of person. Maybe because instead of ignoring life while writing, and dealing with the usual self-doubts that accompany such a predicament, the sidelined writer has to think about the fact he or she can not do the one thing that keeps them sane. Or something like sane, anyway.

Such a situation is particularly frustrating if one is the sort of writer that believes almost any writing obstacle can be solved by keeping at the manuscript. And actually, I consider that previous statement one of the few truths about writing.

That is not to say, there’s no time and place for taking a break. After finishing a massive project it’s not only justified, but necessary. Or while on a vacation with family. Or whenever the writer starts believing the fact one writes is a point of consequence, as if in the great picture it actually matters to the Universe. Writing is just as important as replacing defective heart valves in the hearts of infants. OK maybe not that far, but almost as important. It’s gotta be just a little more important than what everyone else does all day, because well, everyone else isn’t writing.

That inflated self-appraisal is also known as hopping the fast train to Super Ego City. Karma usually derails that car and all its occupants pretty quickly, so it’s best to get off before the train rolls over the loose tie in the track. Better still, do not board in the first place. As it is, I have enough open debts with karma to settle already, so I see the business like this:

Writing is about staying focused while seated, and having some fun now and again with the pages that come from the time spent at the keyboard. Hopefully what’s on the pages make sense, to me and at least one other person. And I write until I hit a wall, and then write over, around or through it. Just stay the course, until the writing project says downshift or brake.

Ah, but carpal tunnel is the one problem one can’t write his or her way through; wrist wraps and ice will only carry one so far–the real fix is rest. So I’ve been resting a lot the past few weeks. With some reservations.

In fact, it’s time to return to what should be the tail end of the rest phase. And maybe find the wrist wrap.

Most of all, I need to accept that writing is not something to be taken for granted. If being on the sidelines for a bit is what it takes to remember that, then so it must be.

When the power goes out in the middle of a server audit, it’s generally a very bad day. If the server in question is pushing seven–seventy-nine in people years, and it’s not a realm where that much experience really pays off–the bounds of a day stop mattering.

Spent most of last week repairing a very sick machine, one that is still, well a bit malevolent. Oh well. On the plus side got approval for a new server thanks to my super cool boss. It’s a point for celebrating, albeit not too loudly. After all, HAL the mail server might hear about his planned obsolescence.

And that could turn a very bad week into a worse month.

But of better days and nights, the entries for the reopened Name the Baddie contest are now in hand. Deciding on the best villain name won’t be easy; the entries are all good. Perhaps surprisingly so. Aiming for Thursday for the announcement.