October 6, 2016. October 6, 2o16. October 6, 2016.
That date is spinning around my head as I look back over the past eighteen months. Man and Brother (working title: His Brother’s Keeper). That very first draft I did for National Novel Writing Month 2012 is so far from what’s being released in a week.
Mind you, this is a year and 5 days after I intended to release it, so this moment is bittersweet.
As an author, I have agonized recently over some of the most bizarre errors in the book. Double-ups of words I missed. Typographical errors, particularly involving o and i. Vanished verbs. What is most baffling of all of these? I missed them.
My brain corrected them as I ground through the document slowly. That is a cruelty of biology, that our brains make those lovely little corrections when we do not want it. Those mistakes should not have been there. Then again, I can see how exhausted I was by the number of errors.
As a writer, I was handicapped by nature. I wear eyeglasses and have since I was 17. I knew the bifocals were in my future. I knew they were coming two years ago, when I released ‘Til Undeath. And right when I needed my eyes to get that polish on Man and Brother? That’s when I needed a reader prescription added to my normal prescription. The irony was that my normal prescription hadn’t changed. I can still use those glasses, beaten up as they have been from the up-and-down and casting aside and restoring to try to see. And then? I chose progressives. It’s disorienting at first, but once I figured it out? It was game on.
I also had a relocation. Anyone who’s moved understands that life absolutely upends. This wasn’t across town, either. This was a big move that includes a dramatic climate change. While the social change is much improved, the summer was oppressive compared to what I faced when I published ‘Til Undeath. My writing resource library is packed in a storage unit. However, I have better internet connectivity in the new location, so I can get the grammar answers I need.
Getting this book out right now was a miracle, but I was in the same position as I was when I was publishing the Dome Trilogy. I was held back by similar delays then as now. The last time, I had less pushing to publish. This time . . . well, the Cryptid Series has more enthusiasm behind the scenes to see it published in a timely manner.
As I sit here trying to think of exciting things to say, I can’t muster the energy. I am thrilled. I really am. But at the moment, I still have IABOS. I miss my friends. I miss my life.
So, here’s the take away: Writing is art. It is a maze of pain and frustration, of attempting perfection and falling far short. It is tears and yelling between creator and manuscript (“Why can’t I get this scene right!!”). It crushes souls and grinds bones and breaks spirits and snaps minds.
But damn . . . when that day comes and the book is out there–as close to perfection as possible yet frustratingly imperfect? It is . . . wordless.
October 6, 2016.