disconnect

thanks to my very barky pomeranian, Samus, i am wide awake at 6:30 am on a saturday, listening to elliott smith through headphones and contemplating when to make that first pot of coffee. soon, it has to be soon...

it's been a very strange month for me. it's dark here in minneapolis, like so dark all the time. it feels like the sun's never out, never going to come out again. not good for my melancholic mind. that, and i've been working on this book. hm. that's one way to put it. another way is that i wrote 150 pages that i absolutely hated. well, not all of it, i suppose. but i spent three freaking weeks slaving over this story and there was such a disconnect between the pages and how i felt about it and the fact that it just sucked. part of it was that i was so determined to write from five perspectives. nope, bad call, michelle. it just wasn't happening, not for this story at least. so what else can you do when you write yourself into a corner like that: highlight, DELETE. 130 pages gone in a matter of about 30 seconds. 130 pages that i'd slaved over just... gone.

i started over with 20 pages. and a story from two perspectives. the book's called travelers, and it follows Alistair, who can travel through time, and Summer, who is forced to astral project every time she falls asleep. anyway, i'm 80+ pages into the rewrite, and actually happy with it. here's a short excerpt (one of the few things that i didn't delete from the initial draft):

Alistair had met a few people who could teleport, which was much different than time travel.  Teleporting took you from one place to another on one earth, which meant there were only three dimensions at play.  But time travel, well, you had the three dimensions of one earth, now (whenever that happened to be), layered with the multi-faceted dimensions of every other earth that had ever existed in any given time.  Which pretty much meant that locating a particular place in time, both physical location and time location, was a hell of a lot like finding a needle in a haystack.  If you’re blind, and the haystack was made of red needles, and the needle you’re looking for happened to be blue.