May. 21st, 2009 05:05 pm
A Festival of One
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klwardToday I was seriously considering going into the city and seeing what the Sydney Writer's Festival had to offer. It's been running since Monday, but today had an interesting batch of panels, ranging in topic from novel vs.short stories to neuroplasticity.
Instead, I stayed at home and wrote. As a result, I may now permit myself to announce the completion of :-
It improves on the first draft in many respects - the whole investigative thing moves along much better and the Act climax is now set up properly (along with several other things). But what caused the real problems and the increasing need to rewrite chapters from scratch was my decision to tone down the magical hijinks, made while redrafting Act I and in the pursuit of sense. Magic should always be the most sensible of plot elements, used for practical purposes in accordance with established laws. It should never be used gratuitously or for effect. Above all, it should never substitute for quick thinking, fast talking and unmitigated sneakiness. Perhaps I should mention my protagonist is a lawyer.
It's a bit of a truism, but of the three keystone inspirations for this project, what really got the book started, not one still remains in the narrative. These were i) the corner cubicle in the office, into which people go only to return as souless zombies, ii) the fact that the "Palace Gates" in the Royal Botanic Garden actually did once lead to a palace, and iii) the spectral giant squid. I repeat, these things are NOT in the book. There are lawyers, magic and both the unliving and undying. And romance; you shall have to wait to find out how these things all fit together. Perhaps I shouldn't have said that.
The early indications are that more of Act III may survive than I first assumed. The characters all have set emotional arcs and certain events, like the High Court appeal, simply have to occur. But the ending has changed completely from the one that put my alpha reader into shock (no, this was not a good thing). A certain somebody's dialogue will be almost completely rewritten, now that I know him better. And thanks to some painstaking foreshadowing, the Great Revelation that I botched completely the first time round should now work. And the big necromantic duel should be cool.
You know, I really thought I'd have finished the whole thing by now. And be on to the sequel. Sigh. That's authorial time for you.
Instead, I stayed at home and wrote. As a result, I may now permit myself to announce the completion of :-
NECROMANCE, DRAFT II, ACT II
It improves on the first draft in many respects - the whole investigative thing moves along much better and the Act climax is now set up properly (along with several other things). But what caused the real problems and the increasing need to rewrite chapters from scratch was my decision to tone down the magical hijinks, made while redrafting Act I and in the pursuit of sense. Magic should always be the most sensible of plot elements, used for practical purposes in accordance with established laws. It should never be used gratuitously or for effect. Above all, it should never substitute for quick thinking, fast talking and unmitigated sneakiness. Perhaps I should mention my protagonist is a lawyer.
It's a bit of a truism, but of the three keystone inspirations for this project, what really got the book started, not one still remains in the narrative. These were i) the corner cubicle in the office, into which people go only to return as souless zombies, ii) the fact that the "Palace Gates" in the Royal Botanic Garden actually did once lead to a palace, and iii) the spectral giant squid. I repeat, these things are NOT in the book. There are lawyers, magic and both the unliving and undying. And romance; you shall have to wait to find out how these things all fit together. Perhaps I shouldn't have said that.
The early indications are that more of Act III may survive than I first assumed. The characters all have set emotional arcs and certain events, like the High Court appeal, simply have to occur. But the ending has changed completely from the one that put my alpha reader into shock (no, this was not a good thing). A certain somebody's dialogue will be almost completely rewritten, now that I know him better. And thanks to some painstaking foreshadowing, the Great Revelation that I botched completely the first time round should now work. And the big necromantic duel should be cool.
You know, I really thought I'd have finished the whole thing by now. And be on to the sequel. Sigh. That's authorial time for you.
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Lloyd Alexander and the Muse of Fantasy would applaud.
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BTW, you remember those lime scented geranium cuttings you gave me last year? I saw the thriving plant this week, in my Aunt's garden.
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Iain and David have made some arrangement for next Saturday (30? May). I might come down, unless an overwhelming sense of business comes over me and I decide to clean out the kitchen/repot the plants/ catalogue all the books? If I come down, okay if I take photos/do drawings of yuor cats?
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