I'm 41 chapters into writing the third Team Manager book, which should start posting around the first of February. I'm happy with about 80% of it. In fact, the first 40 chapters have been through the editing cycle and Old Rotorhead, Pixel the Cat, and Cie Mel have all had encouraging things to say. It just isn't what I want!
It took me three-quarters of the book to discover what the book was really about and retitle it accordingly. But then, I realized the first half of the book didn't really support the dominant theme. So, I've stopped writing new chapters until I go back and rewrite the first forty. And it's going well.
One problem was that there was a lot of filler that was completely unnecessary. Detail that no one cares about. Who needs the time of the top seven runners in the cross country meet? Who needs to know who the high scorer in every basketball game was and who had the most rebounds? How much detail about the libero in volleyball needs to be written in order to understand the importance of a player? And how many times do I need to describe the same couple having sex?
I've edited and rewritten the first seventeen chapters so far and have cut the equivalent of two chapters (over 7,000 words) of stuff that just caused the story to get bogged down. I'm planting more suggestions of the theme and things that will develop in importance earlier in the story. I'm focusing the action on action and not on description. In all, it's the messy part of writing. I describe it to my patrons as the sausage grinder. This is where the raw ideas get ground into recognizable sentences and get packed into a story skin. It's not pretty.
Some years ago, I taught a class on writing and referred to the practice of 'killing your baby.' As writers we sometimes become attached to a precious little detail--a sentence that is exceptionally well written, a punchline we worked through seven pages to set up, a particular love scene--and the hardest thing we have to do is cut it because it doesn't really fit with the story. I guess this week, I've been playing Darth Vader and slaughtering a bunch of stuff I liked but wasn't needed.
Well, this is just me pissing and moaning. I'm 41 chapters into volume three and you all are just getting chapter three of volume 2. It doesn't make that much difference.
I'm also happy to be posting some of the short stories that I've uncovered under Wayzgoose's name in the volume called To Make a Long Story Short. The second story, posted today, reminds me of my college days back in the late 60s and early 70s. Today, it's easy to get up in arms over any drive to defund the police, because what would we do without them. But as boomers in our teens we happily declared "Peace, Love, and Cops are Pigs." How selective our memory is.
Well, next time you need help, call a hippie.