So, How's the Book Going, Part 2

On Monday, I went to my primary care doctor for my annual checkup.  The waiting room was full of folks with the flu.  By Wednesday, I had the flu and still have it.  Apparently my muse fears that I am contagious and has stayed away most of the week.  I was able to rewrite problematic parts of 2 chapters, but other than that, nada.

And I do really miss having my muse take up my head space.  Life is definitely much better when I  can write in the book.  I do occasionally wonder if Sherlock  Holmes somehow  takes over  my personality as I write.  Actors sometimes get so deeply into their parts that their characters possess them.  This happened to the best actor to ever portray Sherlock  Holmes, Jeremy Brett.  He would look into a mirror and wondered aloud why Jeremy Brett was looking back at him.

Quite frankly, I wouldn't mind being possessed if means that I could get the bills paid on time.  It is possible that this book will never get published properly.  So far, it looks like the best I can do is get it published as an e-book (which means I have to fork out a substantial amount of my non-existent money) and then if it sells a few thousand copies, bring it to the attention of publishing houses specializing in Sherlockian novels, like Titan Books.

And then again, there's the notion that I'll wind up like Emily Dickinson.  Great poet -- but couldn't get a damn thing published until she was dead.

On that happy note, I wish you adieu until next time. 

So, How's the Book Going?

A month or so ago, I announced that I had started a book tentatively titled Not the New Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.  It's clawing it's way out of me bit by bit.  I'm losing weight which I assume is a good thing, since I was a fat cow before I started this book.  I  now have 13 chapters and a prologue, but I think the final chapter at the end of Part I is going to need a total rewrite. Oh, joy.

I've read so many books on how to write books that I thought I knew what I was doing.  Now I don't harbor such illusions.  I haven't a clue as to what I'm doing.  For example, successful authors like Stephen King advise that writers write their complete first draft as quickly as they can, stick it in a drawer for two weeks, and THEN go back to fix any mistakes.

I just can't do that.  Perhaps I'm too anal.  I don't know.  It's just that those mistakes get into my head and in front of my eyes and I can't write another damn word until I go back and fix the damn thing.  This puts me behind schedule.  I was hoping to finish the first draft by May, but that's probably not going to happen. 

And then there's my muse.  I've told you about my muse before.  He's a cranky bastard.  He hasn't a clue as to how a mystery book is to be written and he really doesn't give a damn.  He won't keep regular hours and when he does it's usually from about 10 pm to 3 in the morning.  Now, the way you are supposed to write a mystery book is to figure out the crime first (motive, whodunit and how he or she hides the facts) and then fill in the rest.  So, you really need to write the story backwards.

However, that approach ain't flying with my muse.  He wants to tell the story in the way he found out the facts.  I also tell him that I  need to somehow have time to write non-fiction articles and  promote them online in  order to make money so I afford to argue with my imaginary muse.

But if you start to argue, he goes away in a snit for three days.  You just can't argue with a muse because you never win.  No wonder I'm so damn tired all of the time.