Well, I did manage to get some writing done, last week. Just enough to discover that the approach I’d planned for a sequel to the book I’m almost ready to publish…isn’t going to work. I’m going to have to play with it a bit–maybe do with it like I used to do for my essays in college: start somewhere in the middle, write to the end, then write the beginning.
After, of course, I write the outline so that I know what the plot’s going to be. I think I can do the outline this month, and start writing next month, after I turn in my grades.
Beyond that, I do have another finished first draft that I need to finish going through and revising. I have a colleague at the university where I teach that wants to be a beta-reader for it, because I created a new magic framework system for that world…based on some of the basic foundation principles of linguistics. And my colleague teaches the linguistics classes, and has since long before I sat in his classes as a junior.
That one is going to take a bit more work. I wrote half of it more than a year ago, got stuck, set it aside, then went back and deleted the part I got stuck at, and finished the rest. I need to go through it with a fine-toothed comb before I let anyone else see it, to make sure there aren’t any gaping plot holes big enough to fly a dragon through.
Since it isn’t still in the initial burst of writing it stage, though–the one that takes so much time and mental energy, I might be able to get that done before the end of this month.
In the meantime, though, I’ve got grading to do. My students have weekly blogs I have to grade (900 words spread over three posts for one class, and 1000 words spread over two posts for the other, plus two required comments for both), and the other class will have papers due on Monday. Grading helps pay the bills, so that comes first.
Maybe, eventually, the writing life will start being able to help pay the bills, but I don’t foresee that for a good while, yet. My current book has sold a few, but it’s been kind of dead for the past couple months. Since I put that one together from stories I wrote while I was in college and a survivor recovering from childhood abuse, I’m not really worried about it doing well. Publishing that book was less an attempt to be a writing success, and more a bit of self-help therapy. The stories in it are, for the most part, pretty depressing, for lack of a better word.
Still, it is something I’m proud of. Just not something I would personally read for fun.