Strip Tease No. 2: A Confligration of Ideas (A bad thing)
I started a story in early summer called, The Park John, a horror story. In its initial draft, it read creepy and gruesome, my wife liked it (or so she said). Long story short, I put it aside, without an edit.
Jump ahead to September.
I worked feverishly at my writing for six weeks, on two projects (my zombie comedy and my teen ghost mystery). I felt good about the resulting six chapters (three of each), which have, since, been sent off to and editor and an agent.
The crux: it's been a month, now, and I've written a wopping 3 pages total between those two projects. Can you guess why? Right. The Park John, and to a minor degree this blog and the beginning of a writer's critique group (see link).
The Park John consumed three weeks in editing and revision. It kept stretching out like a muslim on a inquisitors rack. The page count increased daily, exponentially. From 8 to 12 to 16 to 21. With each revision the story took on qualities, I'd never envisioned. Disturbing scenes sandwiched between melancholic nostalgia. It was a mess.
My wife finally read a version that I now see was tragically flawed and deeply full of itself (myself). She convinced me to put it down and focus on at least one of the projects. Preferably, just one of the projects.
So four weeks later and I'm back on track and the winner is: zombies.
Jump ahead to September.
I worked feverishly at my writing for six weeks, on two projects (my zombie comedy and my teen ghost mystery). I felt good about the resulting six chapters (three of each), which have, since, been sent off to and editor and an agent.
The crux: it's been a month, now, and I've written a wopping 3 pages total between those two projects. Can you guess why? Right. The Park John, and to a minor degree this blog and the beginning of a writer's critique group (see link).
The Park John consumed three weeks in editing and revision. It kept stretching out like a muslim on a inquisitors rack. The page count increased daily, exponentially. From 8 to 12 to 16 to 21. With each revision the story took on qualities, I'd never envisioned. Disturbing scenes sandwiched between melancholic nostalgia. It was a mess.
My wife finally read a version that I now see was tragically flawed and deeply full of itself (myself). She convinced me to put it down and focus on at least one of the projects. Preferably, just one of the projects.
So four weeks later and I'm back on track and the winner is: zombies.
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