Who said Sunday is a day of rest?
I’m slugging my way slowly through a “Summer To Do” list I made to clear up my workload come September. Soon, I’ll have the dreaded chore of doing my taxes. That’s a job I’ll be tackling in July.
I’ve finished the story. I can’t find anything else to do with it. I managed to cut out a bit more, and hopefully I haven’t left any gaping holes. I’m satisfied this is the best I can do with it at the moment. It’s off to find a new home.
This might seem daft to others, but there are certain sentences that stand out in my mind as an achievement in re-writing, even, as in this case, if it’s not a long sentence. Here is how it stood a week ago:
Oleg’s upturned face was twisted with pain.
And this is how it reads now:
Jealousy disfigured Oleg’s upturned face.
I love how this sentence has been transformed. Even if it doesn’t seem like a big deal to others, for me it symbolises that my work to make my language pack a harder punch is paying off.
It remains to be seen if it knocks anyone out.
I hope to fire it off to a market tomorrow, as long as nothing unexpected happens, such as running out of printer ink, etc.
I plan to start tackling my other story today. It needs work. The essential premise is sound, but I know it’s confusing in places. The action works well in the latter part of the story, and I have to smooth it out so it’s got a zing right from the start.
Surgery-both reconstruction and excision–may be required. I don’t feel up to the task today, and harbour a desultory resentment towards tackling the problem.
I hates it, I do.
Well, fuck it, the Good Fairy of ReWrites isn’t going to wave her magic wand and clarify the plot (the bitch never returns my phone calls), so I’d better get cracking.
Ho hum. Back to the salt mines.