Sailing Venus: Reality bites

When I last wrote about Sailing Venus, I was optimistic about getting back into a regular, productive routine following the lost month of July. Alas, I jinxed myself with that post, because the very next day events conspired that led me to writing this unfortunately cryptic post. The emotional and mental stress, coupled with the massive amount of time I had to invest to deal with the situation, completely wiped out the second half of August for me, as far as writing goes.

Additionally, once I finished Chapter 10 in early September, I realized almost immediately it wasn't working. Something was off. Some of the events that were necessary in the chapter felt forced and unnatural, the author imposing his will on the narrative in an obvious, not-good way. Ultimately, this meant starting over and rewriting that chapter entirely, which meant more lost time. On the bright side, the chapter's better now for the extra work. I inflicted it upon my writers group last Sunday and apart from some blocking and orientation issues (which I kinda recognized in advance, but now have a solution that nicely harkens back to the early pages of the book), the critiques characterized it as "harrowing," "intense" and "powerful." They also deemed it an "Important" chapter, pivotal, and something I'd been building up to from the very beginning. They also wanted it to be longer. It is pretty close to the average length of this book's other chapters, but for one so conceptually and thematically big, it needed some physical heft to go along with it. The chapter was also was relentless, and that giving the reader a moment or two--even if said moments were fleeting--to catch their breath would ultimately make that chapter stronger. I can see that, and more importantly, can see some obvious opportunities for expansion that would flow organically, as opposed to being shoehorned it. But that shall wait for the second draft rewrite.

Last night I wrote another 500 words, which seems to be my standard output in the 10 p.m.-midnight writing window I have. That was a definite improvement over the meager 100 words I wrote the night before. Put them together and I've finally cleared the 45,000-word milestone. If, as I suspect, the finished novel will clock in at approximately 90,000 words, this puts me square in the heart of the book. That's good, considering the fact that chapter 10 capped the first half, and the stakes are significantly higher from here on out.

That word count, 45,000, is also significant in that it's the most I've written on any fiction project since my very first novel--a 90,000-word monstrosity of dubious literary merit or even coherence completed when I was a wee lad of 17. Curiously, I've not progressed much farther than about 20,000 words on any novel started since then. For good or ill, all of my completed work has either been short fiction or non-fiction. Novels have been relegated to the back burner.

Which is, in my typical style, my way of saying that Sailing Venus won't be complete by the time World Fantasy rolls around, hence, the "reality bites" of this post's title. That's a damn shame, but I've got nothing to blame but my own lack of discipline. If my productivity is on the positive side of average, I figure I'll have 14 chapters done by then, which is about three-quarters complete. "Substantially complete" is good enough for an informal pitch, and I'd hope my track record, modest though it may be, would warrant a little bit of credibility for me in the eyes of the editors present. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

I am enjoying writing this book like nothing I've ever done before. I'm still one of those writers who prefers "having written" to the actual act, but Erica and Sigfried have become real to me in a way no other characters have. They surprise me, doing the unexpected and driving me nuts on occasion. They know who they are. That's made the writing easier, even if it doesn't come any faster. And I have developed a deep affection for Erica, such that I feel for her, and the trials she has to endure in the future after already having gone through so much:

Erica sipped from the small cup. The flat, lukewarm water burst through her mouth like monsoons breaking a months-long drought. Nothing had ever tasted so good. It took all her willpower not to gulp it down. She dipped a finger into the water and wiped her eyes with it. That helped, some. At that point she realized some type of bandages wrapped her hands.

"You've got second-degree burns on your palms. Your arm, too, where your skinsuit tore," Adina said.

Erica instinctively checked her arm. A thin film of gel did little to hide the raw scrape and blisters beneath. She felt none of it, though, so the gel must be doing its job.

"And first-degree burns over about twenty percent of your body. Head and neck, arms--wherever your skinsuit was in direct contact with your skin. They're not good insulators."

Maybe I'll finish chapter 11 tonight. Maybe it'll take tomorrow as well. After that, chapter 12 marks Erica's last bit of respite until we see this thing through to the end, wherever that may be.

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