The TV Static Grey Sky

In a full swoop, a delicate press of a key, another chapter bites the dust. The one thousand or so word stretch detailing the young girl walking down the beach and being captured by some alien being is now entirely redundant due to this process taking place in the town shop. The strange part is that it read through fairly well early on and there’s a few descriptions I’m quite happy with. It still goes though, falling down to the cutting room floor.

The latter half of the chapter has notes all over it saying that it falls flat on its face and never really gets back up. I suppose it doesn’t really matter now.

With the chunks of rewriting and creating an entirely new chapter in the early going to bridge a gap the word count has sprung up. My original 55k is, even after deleting that entire chapter, up to 56.700. It’s still going well.

You Can’t Buy Valour From A Vending Machine

I had a few days away, I meant to take my laptop and do some writing whilst I wasn’t home but it didn’t happen. I was staying with the in laws and it may have looked slightly rude if I just put my computer down on the dining table and ignored everybody else whilst I worked away.

As such I’ve only just got underway again tonight and, to my dismay, realised that I had stopped right before a really tough section. It’s the first meeting of the police officer and the Mother of the missing child ten years after the fact. There was a simple note from my read through right after all this that simply says ‘This conversation feels really forced’. In a way it’s supposed to as it’s both characters reacquainting themselves with each other but realising they’re still not seeing eye to eye even after all this time. The entire thing felt really exposition heavy though, as if subliminally I’d taken this opportunity to dump a whole ton of facts down.

Therefore I’ve carved it up and cut it down a lot. She is trying her level best to ignore him and he holds out an incredibly pathetic olive branch that he thinks might just save the situation. It doesn’t and she leaves the scene wondering why exactly the ever thought this town could ever change. In draft one they just seemed to be exchanging pleasantries.

It works better but I’m not quite deleting that note just yet.

Register Personas

Conjuring up entire backstories of characters and inserting them into chapters is probably the most difficult part of this rewrite. My police officer was causing a bit a bit of trouble by the fact it wasn’t clear how he had ended up in a small town rather than the big city he started with. What exactly made him leave? Why wouldn’t he stay among the big smoke?

The simple answer is blood.

Or rather his inability to handle it.

I’ve given him hemophobia and made sure that most of his first few jobs in the city involved gruesome murders. The sight of such horrors has made him vomit in the nearest sink. He was then packed off to a quiet job by those above him.

I’m not really sure if this works as an excuse for him being here, it seems to much like he’d just leave the police all together but I’ve found that all of my main characters are running from something so it fits into the overall scheme. I seem to have given them all strange little faults.

Missed Four Stations

Questions I get on a few occasions lately.

“What’s the book about?”.

So I tell them. It’s usually followed by…

“What’s the ending?”.

To which I do not answer, instead suggesting they might be interested in buying the final thing if they want to know that badly.

This then leads to…

“So are you publishing this then?”.

The answer would obviously be ‘Yes’ but I’m not sure exactly how yet. I figured long ago that I’d be far better off with actually getting the book itself done before I started looking at avenues to bring it to an audience. I actually Googled ‘Self publishing a book’ tonight as I was making dinner and it’s been something of an eye opener.

The main thing I can gain from it is that every single result I seemed to clock on suggested that self publishing was the greatest thing ever, that traditional publishing as we know it is dead and that it’s the easiest thing in the world to do as long as you give them $60.

I don’t really think that any publishing house or agent will want to touch this book. It’s not because it’s bad but more because I don’t think many places deal with science fiction anymore. I don’t really want to spend years sending out manuscripts, then wait around more and then get rejected.

Self publishing seems the way to go but then a lot of that just seems to be throwing it into a huge pile over at Amazon and watching it sink in the quagmire at 99p a go.

It’s still early days and I’m really not in a position to make any concrete plans about it now but does anybody have any experience of going down the independent publishing route? Any words of advice out there?

Turning Wood Into Canoes.

‘Alien blabber’.

Those were pretty much the only words that I had at the start of chapter four. In the original first draft my alien wasn’t really revealed until about 60% of the way through the story. Whilst this did mean there was something of a strange mystery running through the first two thirds it did border on being slightly ridiculous.

It pretty much went ‘Missing child, missing child, MISSING CHILD…oh yeah, aliens’.

Which feels ‘off’.

This chapter is the one that supposed to introduce this whole idea much sooner so it doesn’t feel quite as jarring. This does mean that the last chapter is very much set in small town Scotland before this one goes off into other planets. This also means writing out some rather wonderful sci-fi babble which is something I was trying to avoid to begin with. Thankfully it’s not that much and it’s not something that has a huge bearing on the story. It did mean I had to sit there and make up names for different star systems though.

The Tanzar Gate has a nice ring to it.

Moderate Elemental Powers

Eleven chapters down, many of them with extra notes at the side in red font to give me a later heads up about bits that will need fixing. It’s full of things like “Would actual humans talk like this?” and “She was damp in the first draft, now she’s completely dry”.

Context is everything.

Whilst it’s not readable to the outside world at this time there are fleeting lines and maybe a couple of paragraphs when it reads like I really want it to. It’s descriptive, it’s darkly comic and it buzzes along.

Then it slips back into the same old and dull formula.

But those small moments are the charm.

Back To The Party

Oh man.

I seem to have made the drastic mistake of leaving the rewrite mid chapter back in November. As such I’ve spent the last hour looking between the old and new file and wondering where I kick off again. I seem to have departed the whole thing for Christmas around about the time a young girl gets hauled into the sea by an alien.

This was not a good idea at all.

The section of the book describing all of this in the first draft is wonky. I seem to spend too much time describing the same thing over and over so it’ll need cleaned up afterwards. I had to write a fair chunk of it off the top of my head this afternoon so it reads okay…ish. It’s probably not as good as a pivotal part of the book should be.

The March 4th 2019 two year anniversary date for a complete second rewrite might still be on though.

Pittenweem Harbour in Fife, Scotland. Pretty much the template for the harbour area in my fictional town. Just imagine an alien living under the water.