Yes, that's right!
This week's story in the Limited Time Only section of my web site (see post/link below) is an excerpt from my novel, In the Secret Hours -- one of my most highly panned pieces of writing in my 20 years as a professional writer.
There is so much about that novel that I love but, overall, it is really just an awful mess of a story. (It is not quite as bewildering as my novella-that-stops-halfway-through, "Come Fly with Me!", in the antho I edited That's Amore!, but it comes close.)
Enough years have passed now that I guess I can explain all of it! The merry life of a writer/editor! With "Come Fly with Me!" I was about one day away from the final deadline for the antho when the final draft came in way over the allotted word count, so I suddenly found myself in the position of having to just stop writing. As in: put down your pen, the book's over; The End. It was a totally fucked up situation. I wanted my contributors' stories to look their best.
So for those few reviewers who read my novella and said, "It seems a tad unfinished", well, what are you gonna say to that? Not much. Just move on to the next project.
In the Secret Hours was even worse. It was my one & only book to have an exclusive distribution with Borders Books. I had just begun writing it. It was late May and I allegedly had until Labor Day to write a 255 page novel. But, oops! The publisher called in alarm to say there was some sort of misunderstanding in the contract and my novel had to be turned in by the 4th of July. I had 5 weeks to write an entire novel that I only had a vague storyline for. No outline, just some notes. It was really hell. I thought my fingers were going to fall off from all that marathon typing everyday-long-into-the-night. Not only that, but I seriously had to let the story tell itself. Whatever the fuck came out onto the paper became "the novel." It was a real nightmare for me. And when the reviews came out and were bad, well, what are you going to say? Complain about the fuck up in your deadline? It just makes you look like a cry baby. So onward to the next project once again.
I do not miss writing genre fiction under those ridiculous deadlines, folks. What an awful, non-creative way to live. And it always seemed that without fail my deadline would land on a holiday and so I didn't get to have any holiday fun. Poop! That went on for a couple of years and I don't miss that part, either. Do I miss the paychecks? Yeah, I miss the paychecks, gang, but I much prefer the kind of storytelling that comes naturally to me, wacky as my stories are much of the time! But what can I say? It's the gift God gave personally to me so I'm going to write the hell out of it while I still can! Yippee ki yi yay!
Well, have a great day, folks, wherever you are! I gotta get back at the editing around here; it's darned hard work (photo below)!! Thanks for visiting, gang. See ya!
There is so much about that novel that I love but, overall, it is really just an awful mess of a story. (It is not quite as bewildering as my novella-that-stops-halfway-through, "Come Fly with Me!", in the antho I edited That's Amore!, but it comes close.)
Enough years have passed now that I guess I can explain all of it! The merry life of a writer/editor! With "Come Fly with Me!" I was about one day away from the final deadline for the antho when the final draft came in way over the allotted word count, so I suddenly found myself in the position of having to just stop writing. As in: put down your pen, the book's over; The End. It was a totally fucked up situation. I wanted my contributors' stories to look their best.
So for those few reviewers who read my novella and said, "It seems a tad unfinished", well, what are you gonna say to that? Not much. Just move on to the next project.
In the Secret Hours was even worse. It was my one & only book to have an exclusive distribution with Borders Books. I had just begun writing it. It was late May and I allegedly had until Labor Day to write a 255 page novel. But, oops! The publisher called in alarm to say there was some sort of misunderstanding in the contract and my novel had to be turned in by the 4th of July. I had 5 weeks to write an entire novel that I only had a vague storyline for. No outline, just some notes. It was really hell. I thought my fingers were going to fall off from all that marathon typing everyday-long-into-the-night. Not only that, but I seriously had to let the story tell itself. Whatever the fuck came out onto the paper became "the novel." It was a real nightmare for me. And when the reviews came out and were bad, well, what are you going to say? Complain about the fuck up in your deadline? It just makes you look like a cry baby. So onward to the next project once again.
I do not miss writing genre fiction under those ridiculous deadlines, folks. What an awful, non-creative way to live. And it always seemed that without fail my deadline would land on a holiday and so I didn't get to have any holiday fun. Poop! That went on for a couple of years and I don't miss that part, either. Do I miss the paychecks? Yeah, I miss the paychecks, gang, but I much prefer the kind of storytelling that comes naturally to me, wacky as my stories are much of the time! But what can I say? It's the gift God gave personally to me so I'm going to write the hell out of it while I still can! Yippee ki yi yay!
Well, have a great day, folks, wherever you are! I gotta get back at the editing around here; it's darned hard work (photo below)!! Thanks for visiting, gang. See ya!
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