When it takes you two years to write a book (in your “spare” time), and when you’re my age, it’s easy to forget. I mean, think about it: The beginning of your book is obscured in the mists of yesteryear. You haven’t looked at it … well, since the beginning. By the time you get to The End and start editing your heart out, you suddenly realize you had forgotten all about the cleft in Jack’s chin. Not to mention Biker Dog’s Fu-Manchu. Go figure.
So far, in addition to forgetting Jack’s manly cleft and the dog’s stache, I discovered I used the exact same name for two different characters, who appear a hundred pages and 3,000 miles apart. (What is this fascination with the name Angie DiNapoli?) My only consolation is the goof evidently registered in my dim subconscious, because the second Angie inexplicably became a Tina two pages after I introduced her. Like I said, go figure.
Although I’ve been whining about how long it took me to write Mandy’s Eyes—and I still look forward to the day when my New York Times bestselling career takes off, allowing me to write novels full-time, possibly in my pj’s—I’m forced to admit at least one long-haul plus. My main character has grown up over the past two years, maturing from a play-it-safe Pollyanna not unlike myself to the risk-taking, story hungry, borderline pushy police reporter she was meant to be. Oh, she’s still a closet idealist, but Mandy has acquired a definite edge. I like this woman … even if she does intimidate me.
Finally, while I’m admitting the bennies of marathon authorship, I might as well tell you those two years gave me time to brush up on my science. This matters (at least to me—and hopefully, before long, to a legion of fans) because Mandy lives and works in the year 2095. (I won’t go into my whole this isn’t science fiction but a novel that takes place in the future spiel right now. I’ll save that for another post.) The point is, technology will be a lot cooler in 2095, and I needed to get comfortable with imagining how cool. Reading New Science, Discover, and Popular Science … just to name a few … helped. It was also fun. (Did I mention the fact that in addition to being a play-it-safe Pollyanna, I’m an inveterate geek?)
Bottom line, I’m editing out a lot of oh puleeeeze technology I wrote when I was trying too hard.
As I glance back over this post, a question occurs to me: What makes you think anybody wants to read about this stuff? I mean, just because I’m having fun ….
But isn’t that the definition of a writer? You labor under the delusion that not only do you have something interesting, new, witty, or important to say, but you actually believe other people want to read it.
Once again, go figure.
