Saturday, August 6, 2011

Transcendental Detection on the Beach

Chapter 11 of twelve chapters is finished, hurrah hurrah hurrah. Possibly the action is a bit rushed because I wanted to get to the final scene in the chapter before I forgot the image I wanted to present to the reader. I'm not sure and likely I'll stretch things out during revisions. Anyway, the murderer has been named and pursued and things end on a beach. It's a sunny afternoon and birds are singing all around. I remain pleased with my two policemen. Chapter 12 comes next, where we have a wrap up of loose ends, some, and one last twist. The discovery and reading of letters (all but one) will occur. Lots of fun because I really don't like denouement.

Current word count is about 65K. I already have a long list of things I need to do to the MS during revisions. Last night I was thumbing through a volume of Aristophanes, looking for the play in which a judge extemporizes poetically about birds. It turned out, of course, to be the lawyer character in the play "Birds." I also reacquainted myself with the Biblical story of Jephtha and his daughter.

I dreamed last night of the brief but intense little scene where Banquo is murdered by the three assassins hired by Macbeth. That must be indicative of something. Possibly only that I shouldn't read Shakespeare just before bed.

8 comments:

  1. I'm about 1/3 of the way through the final chapter! A couple more thousand words and the first draft will be finished. Maybe by the end of this week!

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  2. Skip work! Call in sick! Tell Might Reader to make you scones!

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  3. ~750 words at lunch today. Still not done, but I am now working on the final scene of the book! Another day or so and I'll have it finished!

    (and then there will be round after round of revisions, of course)

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  4. Yay! So close now. I'm in the mood to write, Bailey. I must finish my work quickly so that I can do that tonight.

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  5. Having an almost-finished book is like carrying around a leaky basket of grain. All of your energy is taken up by efforts to keep the grain from constantly spilling out. It's wearying, nerve-wracking but you have to keep carrying it around with you all day long wherever you go and it's always spilling out through the holes in the basket, past your fingers and you just want to set the damned thing down somewhere.

    Which is to say, I want my Cyberlama. Where's my damned Cyberlama?

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