From the time I roll out of bed, to the end of my day, I’m busy with my writing career. I do take weekends off, simply to detox from the five days before. I measure my progress in goals accomplished, not in the number of words down. I’m trying to put in more words per day, certainly, but that’s not the end all to this life. I found I’m working on three books at the same time anyway, so gave in to that irresistible impulse. In the morning I work on my crime thriller. In the afternoon I work on my sweet G-rated fantasy. In the evening I work on a complicated fantasy. I also read everyday, and, I do some editing.

My crime thriller stands at 90 pages, my G-rated fantasy stands at 75 pages, the complicated fantasy novel stands at 40 pages. Yesterday I managed five good pages on my crime thriller, three pages on my G-rated fantasy, and one page on the complicated fantasy. I edited 30 pages on a past project to take a creative break, sent out 40 queries, and read a chapter from a book I thought I should read. I have a theory going as to what makes a good book great, and going over great books; then good books and bad books, confirms what I had been thinking all along.
Of course the rejection slips are coming in, one, two at a time, but that’s to be expected. I’ll wait until next month before I do more agency research, and see if anybody new that’s real has opened their doors to my e-mail queries. No paper used. Green is good.

I took a tour of the WWW today, looked around, thinking many thoughts. I stopped over at the Self-publishing Hall of Fame. Not much new, but it’s a fun read. I read several other writer’s blogs, and I’m boring compared to them. It’s okay. I don’t mind. Read the industry news from several sites, and didn’t find anything I could use. I’ll work on chapter five of my crime thriller today. I have to go back a few pages and insert a little something that will help me out with the ending.

I decided I’ll add to this piece until after the holiday season is over, and then post it. It’s the least I can do for myself.

I’ve written the equivalent of eight books. I read constantly. I’m developing killer editing skills. My head aches because of the above, but I’m not complaining. I have to do more. I have to bleed words. *G*

I’m trying to get into a space, a mind set, a habit where each new day is as productive as the last. Even if one day is worth five hundred new words on a project, or two thousand new words. (Let me stray a moment to say that I spent the last two years trying to learn all I can about editing for fiction, proper grammar and punctuation, the impact of the sentence, only to learn the rules vary depending on what I’m saying, and how I want to say it. The rules also have exceptions I should be using where appropriate. No one single book lists both the rules and the exceptions, all of it, all at the same time. So, I’ve been working out of four different books. I’m 98.9% sure that what I’m doing, now, is as correct as possible. I’m a semi-closed punctuation kind of guy.) Today I’m shooting for a thousand new words, but I want the new words to work.

I’m about to send out another agent query, sure that my full query is mistake free. I found several things that I corrected. I’m not going to rush through this process, though I feel like I should push the agent list hard, and then push harder. My instincts say to do that, but this time they’re wrong.

I need to take my time and only show my best work. The new economy needs to be considered. Agents will still sell new novelists to established publishers, but not as often. I have to stand above everyone else. There are agents I’m querying know I’m one to watch, but I have to give them something they can stand behind and sell. It all comes down to me. I’m not a one hit wonder, but I can’t break into the business with what I have (so far). I have to give them something that puckers their butts. This will be my third query out, making the rounds. Three more books will be queried after this one, with two more finished books getting the editorial asses wiped and powdered, pinned up in proper nappies.

I just read Nora Roberts, writing as J. D. Robb. I found the first chapter (and the rest of the book) riddled in mistakes I certainly couldn’t get away with, but these were not typos, as more mistakes of omission. Words left out of the prose, which would have cleared a few things up for me as I worked each disjointed paragraph. The characters, the feel for them, all seemed to bleed together. Two dimensional. I’m also reading Michael Connelly, who makes each character stand out as an individual. His prose is easy, relaxed, thought out. He sits down and sweats blood over his prose, and I see it. Easy, relaxed, thought-out prose is a lot of hard work.