Every Time I Turn My Back...
...my WIP starts Telling instead of Showing. Argh. I start out a writing session full of elegance and subtly, and then, as soon as I get roaring along in the scene, I find myself writing:
Lovely.
I have complete sympathy for authors whose third or forth, or thirty-fourth book is worse than their first. These frickin' words are like chimpanzees, they have to be watched for errant mischief all the time or pretty soon they start throwing poo at the guests.
Other than that, I'm doing rather well. Clipping right along with my new pirate scene. No piracy has actually transpired yet, but the heroine just murdered a fat prince and I think she's about to jump out the cabin porthole to avoid the inevitably unfortunate consequences.
She felt sad. Very sad. She wanted to cry.
'I'm going to cry!' she cried to him.
He was sad she felt so bad.
"Don't cry," he urged her urgently.
Lovely.
I have complete sympathy for authors whose third or forth, or thirty-fourth book is worse than their first. These frickin' words are like chimpanzees, they have to be watched for errant mischief all the time or pretty soon they start throwing poo at the guests.
Other than that, I'm doing rather well. Clipping right along with my new pirate scene. No piracy has actually transpired yet, but the heroine just murdered a fat prince and I think she's about to jump out the cabin porthole to avoid the inevitably unfortunate consequences.
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