Marissa Lingen (mrissa) wrote,
Marissa Lingen
mrissa

Early morning book woes

Any morning now I could stop waking up early due to bad dreams. Yep. Any morning...now. Now. Now. (I appear to still be awake. Drat.)

Now that there is sufficient temporal distance from people on my friendslist posting those things where you give them your picture and they tell you which celebrities you look like, by which they apparently mean which celebrities are holding their heads at similar angles, I don't feel like I'd be hitting on any particular one of you, so I can say this: you all look better than all of those people. Heath Ledger? Pope John XIII? Joan Rivers's daughter, and why does anybody even know what Joan Rivers's daughter looks like? You look better than all of them. All of you. Really. Much, much better.

You may ascribe this to my well-known preference for geeks, if you like. I don't mind. It's still true.

Sampo will never end. Evereverever. This is the thing about revision: there's no guarantee that you're wrong. When you're rough drafting, you can more or less tell that even though it feels like the rough draft will never end, eventually you will have enough words in enough of the right order to call it a book. But after that? All bets are off.

(Seriously there is progress. Notecards are being handled. Bits of old manuscript discarded. Etc. But some days I have a very strong temptation to go write another book. Not even an easier one! Just a different one. Although I begin to suspect they're all easier ones than this.)

(I can't decide if it's the blood, the love, or the rhetoric that's troubling me most. You would think that rhetoric would be right out as a problem in a book where all the characters who aren't Finns or Saami are British, but you would be wrong. They have to talk, and they have to sound like Finns when they do it. Yai. And the love in this book? Truly, truly messed up. But even the blood is not flowing uncomplicatedly like blood is supposed to do. If these people were hockey players, it would be time to knock some teeth out, but the complications of having blood and teeth flying around in this book would be...let's say we won't be doing that. Urgh. Ribs, sure. Teeth, right out.)

As I was hoping, the act of babbling on lj knocked a few things loose in my head -- happily, not teeth -- so back I go to it. With something entertaining later, maybe.
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