"Oh, the Pain,"

as Dr Smith Lost in Space said frequently. 


gday gentle reader, 

   back in October last year I posted that I had

"205,000 word to edit in 10 days, leaving a couple for the synopsis and query letter. 20,500 a day - midnight oil was burnt - rest of life put on hold. It got done, it got sent. It is not as good as I would have sent if I had continued as I was."

That was Book 1 out there at last, and while I waited I thought to edit Books 2 & 3, just in case. As November and December evaporated I slowed down. Then Xmas got in the way. The editing slowed further as the deadline for a result approached. I watched the site daily for an update and frequently checked my emails.

Such is the nature of Hope 

Last night, while I was sleeping (perchance dreaming of publication) I received their boringly standard polite rejection.

Despite that writers have (or should have) an expectation of rejection, when it comes it is not without a degree of pain, the mild pain of disappointed hopes, as Zachary's expression "Oh, the pain." exemplifies.

Don't get me wrong I really appreciated the fantastic opportunity to submit my manuscript direct to a potential publisher. the result though not as I might wish, is nonetheless enlightening. Their "thorough and fair consideration" means the work needs work. 

I knew that. Its good but it aint yet polished to high gloss.

I posted my result to facebook (as one does these days).

"Yippee I just received my first rejection for 'Break' - 19 to go ...
 

 Now I can get back to editing it properly. (i.e. the trilogy as single unified story.)  write better, edit harder, submit elsewhere. "

One, long-time writing colleague responded and I replied - Here is our exchange of approaches to publishing. 

I'm cynical enough to agree with Jo but I want to try the traditional avenue's first - I'll see how I feel after a few more rejections.








ooroo until my next post  
RoB

A horse of different colour

gday gentle reader 

Taking a quote from my novel, and extending the wriding metaphor of my last post, "First rule of mounted troops, care for your animal or walk."  The animal I had been riding was the trilogy but I got back on a horse of different colour, a new short story, and paid scant attention to the one that had carried me so many miles. At the time the theory seemed sound - to quote from last post - 

It worked until I finished the short story, which then had to edited - oops. I now had two animals needing attention and I was walking, it all became too hard, I fell off - again. 

  And that's about as far as this silly metaphor will stretch without surpassing it elastic limit.

Then Harper Voyager opened their transom for unsolicited manuscripts for 14 days a magnificent opportunity too good to miss.      

 
205,000 word to edit in 10 days, leaving a couple for the synopsis and query letter.  20,500 a day - midnight oil was burnt - rest of life put on hold.

 It got done, it got sent. 

It is not as good as I would have sent if I had continued as I was. I now think however that with out the impetus of Harper/Voyager's deadline it might never have got finished. 

There was so much more I wanted to do. For example the story takes place over a year. I have a chart with every POV characters birthday marked. Another has the daily temperature and rainfall for every day of the year. telling details which never got used. 

Then (of course) as soon as it was sent I found an error on the first page - consecutive snatches of dialogue from the same character and the response from the other character in the scene  (supposed to be between those snatches) was missing. 

   

I now have a new editing philosophy, which works the same for me as the "write book three in a year" did to get the trilogy finished, 
to wit: For book two I've given myself until the end of the year to edit it (overly generous I now think) The total words divided by number of days give me a daily target to edit. Since today's target was reached yesterday I had time to blog about it today  

ooroo until my next post 

Rob

 

Now You Tell Me?

G'day

Last Thursday by invitation (they made me an offer I couldn't refuse)  I had an MRI, that's the tunnel one on the left not to be confused with  doughnut shaped CT scanner on the right.

See the difference? Me Neither. It's all in the technology: Magnets or X-rays

Anyhow the reason for it is I passed the two year mark in may. Thanks to my wife's magnificent gift of a Kidney, I'm now in my third year of a full life (not the half-life of Dialysis) .   

Here's the offer   (badly scanned)

The fine print under the heading  

  Heart Disease in Renal Transplant  

Heart disease ... leading cause of death ...in ... kidney transplant recipients ... 

whoa, say that again? 

leading cause of death ...in ... kidney transplant recipients ... 

Okay, okay no need to shout 

highest in the first 5 years post transplant ... even ... with no prior history of heart disease. 

By 3 years ... 40% of kidney transplant people ( I think they mean recipients not the doctors and nurses) have experienced a heart problem.  ... you are likely to have high blood pressure, cholesterol and diabetes.

Now you tell me!  

(The bold text and underlined text is not mine.)

How could I refuse an offer like that:- to find out just how well my ticker was ticking under the new regime.

The experience was neither pleasant nor unpleasant.

I was lying down almost comfortable but for my unsupported arms at full stretch elbows down on the edge of the mattress,  the right with a needle taped into the vein. Lucky I'm thin eh. (and not claustrophobic - the tunnel roof is up close and personal.) Still after an hour like that the forearm an bicep muscles did ache somewhat.

Did  I mention that at some point around needle insertion someone said something about a 'gusher'. I couldn't  get my head around all the monitoring paraphernalia across my chest to see what was going on. I have a vivid imagination.

At some point during the procedure I was injected with a heart stimulant so they could watch my old ticker go through its treadmill like paces. I was tempted to ask for a copy of the resultant video but it's not wide screen, its black & white, has one character and a plot only a doctor can appreciate: thumpity-thump, thumpity-thump, ...
 
The accompanying soundtrack of the magnets banging away was like an atonal heavy-metal rock opera while a voice in my headphones kept telling when to breath in - out - hold - breath normally; over an over again.  Despite the mild discomfort and the noise I nearly went to sleep except for the voice telling me to breath.    

As for the implied death sentence by heart attack, its a moot point. Post dialysis transplantees released from a strict diet tend to put on weight leading to high blood-pressure, high cholesterol and/or  diabetes which in turn leads to the the above scenarios.

I'm relieved not to fit the profile, I skipped dialysis, and I have kept off the 14 kilo's I lost in preparation for the transplant.