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November 27, 2005

Chapter 16: The Disappointed Boy of Steel

WELL, I WROTE NICE AND LONG yesterday (Saturday), and today (Sunday). I'm on page 154, and I think I wrote about 15 pages today (I know that doesn't add up from last time...and that's odd, because I added a chapter in the middle, too. I wonder if I don't cut a lot, when I go through. My usual method is to read through my last chapter, correct tenses, transitions, typos, fine tune a little. Anyway, 13-15 pages, one way or another). We're well into denouement by now, and as in editing for film, I am cutting the scenes/chapters shorter to reflect the quickening pace. Its more or less intuitive, anyway, as I see it.

Yet, ironically, I feel the need to slow down right at this moment, to insure I weave it together in the proper order. There are a number of events mapped out roughly...in my mind and on paper. I know how it all has to end, I know what has to happen along the way, yet I'm unsure on the order of a few things. So I need to break for the day (even 13 pages is a good amount) and print out the book. I need to reread it, all in order, and feel where it needs to go next.

My excitement grows. I feel the book is turning out even better than I had hoped. The ghost arm writes all my best lines, and it has an instinct that guides this story into the most wonderful of places. The book is writing its end longer than I thought it might, though. I am going with it; I am trusting the story to unspool the way it needs to. I feel I was wrong, and I simply wasn't as close to the end as I thought. Everything must unfold in its time. If you hop where you should stride, the reader will not feel they belong in the new spot. And they will no longer believe you. And if that happens, all is lost. We will not allow that. Anyway, fine tuning to come later. Editing will come later. I know there will need to be a good amount of finessing to bring the book up to its highest potential, but now that's hardly my worry.

In fact, I have no worry. Just a anxiety/patience/excitement that continues to fuel the telling of a tale that surprises me with its insistence.

Boy, am I tired.

joaquín ramón herrera writes for children, adults, and other humans found elsewhere in the continuum of development. He is also an illustrator, musician, and surprise protagonist. If you have found his glasses, wallet, or keys, please contact him here.

(neuralpermalink established at 14:24)