I'm pleased to report I survived November 1 without striking blindly into creating a new novel that has had no planning. (Not that I ever follow the plans that I do make.) Instead, I've been hard at work editing Black Sight. It's only 48,000-something words, close to 49,000.
I took a pen to the printed copy my mother and sister read. While going chapter-by-chapter, I realized that I left out two chapters in the printed copy. Oops. So those two haven't been edited yet. I had wondered where certain scenes were while I was going through it and editing, but thought perhaps I decided to take it out and I just didn't remember. Wrong.
During my pen edit, I jotted notes like, "Don't forget to make sure you change this name, and make sure you do it in every chapter." and "Add explanation for this SOMEWHERE in the book." Those are not word for word, but that's what they say in essence. My real notes don't make sense.
There are other scenes that I just bracketed and wrote, "Rewrite" in the margins.
I complained to my mother yesterday (or maybe the day before) that I needed to learn how to drive and I needed to get a job. I only go to classes twice a week (college student with a driving hang-up, who knew?) and that I needed something to do for the rest of the week.
My mother just told me to worry about my book and try getting it published and bring in some money that way.
Er, no. It's okay to dream of making a million dollars for a great book, but that almost never happens. And it probably won't happen to me. I read Stephen King's On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft recently. I knew this already, but in there, he says that if you're in it for the money, don't do it. I mention this because SK is an authority on it and people respect something when they know an authority endorses it rather than just some random article. So I'm not the first nor will I be the last to agree with it.
I have to be in General Psychology soon. Have a good one, and God bless.