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Friday, February 1, 2013
12:00 AM | Posted by Maureen | | Edit Post
Edits. Ah, my weeks from a very special sort of hell. I actually threatened my editor with the Kraken on Facebook. She laughed and said they were good friends. I cursed her with Cthulhu, she grinned and I saw her green teeth, realized she was one of the chosen.
It wasn’t fair. I warned her, as I addressed the 242 comments on the side of my 15.5k story (that is over 5 comments per page!) “I’m gonna end up adding a ton of words!”
“Add more words. More words are good!”
(Direct contradiction of my first editor who, when I added 5k words to an 80k story, said, “Good! Don’t ever do that again.”)
What did Zee, the new editor, want? Well, she wanted more details. She wanted great depth and sensuality, she wanted more backstory and development of the myth, she wanted me to stop having body parts move and behave independently of the characters. (It is a bit on the horror side but not so much that I could get away with hands wandering like Thing in the Addams Family.) (One day I’m gonna write a book like that, just so I can write all the disembodied body parts I want.) (So, there!)
She wanted, she wanted, she wanted!
I? I didn’t want. She hit me with all these wants at a time when I could barely string together two emotions let alone stir any libido into the mixture. I was silent and unable to muster up any enthusiasm at all.
But I had to. I got an extra week and with no choice before me…I opened the doc and dove in.
And wanted to kill her over and over and over and over and over.
I ended up adding 3.5k to the short story. Torturous, terrible, words of blasphemous belief and a sensuality that only an elder god could appreciate.
Lorelei’s Song is all about the last siren on earth, who knew she’s different but didn’t realize how different. She is into heavy BDSM, rich as Midas, and bored. Terribly bored. (It is really hard to write a bored character as anything but boring. I may never create a bored character again. If I do, shoot me.) (I mean she wasn’t a boring woman, but she was bored. Big difference.) She goes to a Steampunk convention and meets two guys. Who happen to be descendants of the unholiest of all elder gods, the terrible awesome Cthulhu. These guys can shift into tentacle sea monsters. They are on the edge of desperation. Need to mate, need to let the monster inside get sexy.
The three meet and it might mean the end of the world…or it might mean…???
Yes, fun stuff. I actually had a lot of fun writing it, but the editing was straight from the gaping maw of the soul sipping Cthulhu himself.
Is the book better at this point? Yeah. I will admit that. And I did prove to myself that even when every nerve and creative synapsis is dead on arrival, I can reach into my deepest pit of hell and find something.
I’m waiting with baited breath for the next round. And preparing my talisman’s of power. I wonder if Zee knows voodoo?
My point? Well, I know it may not sound like it, but this was an empowering exercise and I can now say with confidence? “You think you are out of gas? You think you can’t do it anymore? Creativity has died a long slow death along your spine? Well. MAGGOTS! GET OUT OF THE MUD AND PULL UP YOUR PANTIES AND DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!”Or I’ll sic Zee on you.
The next round came and I was given three days to cut 175 uses of the name Jerrod by at least ¾ and the same with the 145 times I used Nicholas. Plus about the 32 times I used the word cousin. I did it. My brain is now so torqued it’s hard to walk.
I must have done a great job with Jerrod... Third round of edits she added a few of them back in. ;-)
What was the last thing you didn’t think you could do and you did it anyway? Did it kill you? What’s your nightmare story?