Buddy, can you spare some bail? by Kait Carson

I am currently incarcerated. No, I haven’t committed an unspeakable crime. At least not yet, I’m assuming there is still time. Given the stuff that’s resident on my hard drive…well, let’s just say a visit from NSA could be in my future.

Instead, I’m wishing I were in solitary confinement instead of with the general population. I figure that would keep the rest of the world safe from my snarls. No such luck. Instead, I’ve got to deal with a husband, cats, birds, and—oh yeah—a day job. Add to that the fact that I spent last week flat on my back with some kind of mystery virus and you’ll understand--jail is hell.

You see, I’m in book jail. The bars and locks are of my own creation. So they say. I don’t buy it. Really, is it my fault that I’m 30,000 words short of my goal? And haven’t begun the edits necessary to turn a yucky first draft into a shining star? In my defense, I have two secret weapons in my quest to go from words on the page to story to die for. The first is that I edit as I go, at least this time I did. The second is I have two stellar editors, both of whom are wonderful writers in their own right and who do not fear to tell it like it is.

So, here’s my prediction. The 30k will materialize this week. Well, maybe not, but definitely by mid next week. When I’m on a roll, I can knock off 5k in a sitting, and that’s before and after the day job. I’ve done 10k on a good weekend day. I’ll lock myself away in my office do the pesky chapter editing to seek out and destroy the overused words, passive voice, head hops (there’s always a few—this book is in first person), and make those chapters shine. That will take two full weekend days and a week of slogging before and after work. That done, it’s time to read aloud. Usually ten chapters at a sitting. There go four more days. By then, I’ve got another weekend ahead and it’s time to put the book in Shawn Coyne’s story grid. I do that as I write too, but by checking the gridding after the book is done, I can see if I missed anything and find story holes. Then off to my editors (who double as betas) by mid-October at the latest.

So you see, book jail. And worse, I’ve convicted myself. Next book, I promise, I’ll be ready way ahead of deadline! Yeah, as if.  Did someone tell you writing was a glamorous life? Shoot ‘em. I’ll write the story about it.