Embracing the Old Stuff

 Every Wednesday, my most awesome and wonderful friend, Silver, posts a thing called Wednesday Words, wherein she takes a prompt and posts a snippet with that particular word in it.  And asks others to post their own snippet.  Today's word was 'telescope'.  And it made me trot out my first book.  (Because I don't think any other book I've ever written has that word and I can't seem to write to spec.)  You can read my snippet over there.  Warning: It's pretty bad.

And that's what I want to talk about today.  

Early writing can be awful.  Actually Fear Itself can't have been that bad.  It helped Hubs fall in love with me, after all.  But it's not where I am right now.  And looking back at it makes me want to cringe.  

That snippet alone... ugh.  I used 'breathed' as a dialogue tag for pitysakes.  

It's nearly 18 years since I started writing that book, though, and I've grown a lot.  Thank goodness for that.  Eighteen years.  I don't know how many books I've written in those years, but 16 of them are now published.  One would hope after all that, I'd learned some things.  I don't use 'breathed' as a dialogue tag anymore, that's for damn sure.  LOL

I think every writer should go back and read the early stuff they've written, though.  It helps to see where you've been.  And then you can celebrate how far you've come.  

Even better, go back and try to fix your early stuff.  It helps stretch the editing muscles.  I still love that book, flaws and all, and I have tried, from time to time, to fix the writing.  I may do it yet.  I'm stubborn that way.

One thing you should never do is shitcan your old stuff.  You need it.  Even if you never look at it again, it's part of your journey.  It's your history.  It's like an old movie of you learning to walk.  You'd never destroy that because you walk perfectly now, would you?  No, you embrace it.  

Embrace your early writings.  They may suck.  They may make you cringe.  You may never want to ever show any of it to the world, because, frankly, it can be a little embarrassing.  But they're part of who you are now as a writer.  Don't cringe.  Smile.  The same way you'd smile at uncovered art from Kindergarten.  You've grown, sure, but that burgeoning writer is a part of you.  Embrace her.

My First Book

Last night, Hubs and I watched Armageddon again.  I love that movie so much.  And not just because it's action-packed and funny with characters I can root for who save the world.  It's part of the reason I wrote my first book.

January 2004.  I was sitting in my little apartment watching movies.  I don't remember exactly how it came about, but I'd watched both Armageddon and Deep Impact within a day or two of each other, and something hit me.  After whichever one I watched second was over, I sat down at my computer and wrote.  And wrote.  And wrote.  Into the night.  

That book took me nine months to complete, but it was the first book I ever finished.  (Lord knows, I'd started quite a few over the years.)  Eventually it would become Fear Itself.  And it's more about the fear of something than the actuality of it.  

Of course, not long after I started the book, I met and fell in love with Hubs.  2004 was a busy and eventful year for me.  After we got married, he encouraged me to finish the book and gave me the opportunity to do so. 

I still love that book.  I'd still like to see it polished and published.  Whether that ever actually happens?  :shrug:  It's a behemoth.  And I've learned so much since I first wrote it that turning it into something publishable may be a pipe dream.  But hey, pipe dreams can still come true.  Right?

If you're a writer, what spurred you to write your first book?  If you're a reader, what pipe dreams do you have? 

Beginnings - Fear Itself

Okay... new blog title... Check.  New attitude...?  Working on it.  New theme of things to get posted...

Well, that starts here.  Today and for the coming Sundays I'm going to post the beginnings of my books - in the order they were written (as close as I can remember it - it's been 9 years, people).  I hope it'll be a kind of journey through my career thus far.

Anyway, without further lip-flapping, here's the beginning of my first book: Fear Itself (aka Spectacle).  It was written from January to August 2004.  Eight months for a first draft?  :shudder:  I edited it for a month and then sent it off into the world.  :double-shudder:  I've edited it a bit since then, but this is it... unless I decide to edit again.

Chapter 1

“The greatest obstacle to discovery is not ignorance—it is the illusion of knowledge.”

– Daniel Boorstin

 “We’re on in two.” 

Scanning the copy for tonight’s broadcast, Alex McKenzie couldn’t bring herself to believe what she was reading, not that any of it was new.  The world she once thought was so constant—so stable—was falling apart. 

She reported on the same types of things for the past two months, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling something wasn’t right about it all.  As if the action would erase her unease, she ran a trembling hand through her hair.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of movement; a monitor just off the set showed a woman’s profile.  Her long black hair was perfectly coiffed, but hung limp around her pale face.  Her slender fingers quivered over the papers in front of her.  The corner of her mouth twitched as though she held back a tide of tears. 

At the edge of her consciousness, Alex heard the lead-in, but she couldn’t seem to focus her thoughts.  The camera in front of her indicated she was now on-air.  The woman on the monitor straightening to speak.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” said a familiar voice, “and welcome to GBC News.  It’s Friday, May 1^st, and I’m Alexandra McKenzie standing in for Craig Jamison.” 

The woman sat rigidly behind the news desk and looked, for that brief moment, as if she would rather be doing anything else than reporting the news.  It took a moment for Alex to realize the woman was herself.  Shaking away the detachment she now realized was visible on her face, she replaced her harried expression with the steely gaze of the hardened reporter she used to be.  She looked directly into the hearts of her audience and began.  “What would normally be a day of celebration for the coming of spring is instead a day of trepidation.  This time of year we should all be thinking of beaches and bikinis, cookouts and ball games,  but instead our thoughts are of Fenrir and its rapid descent toward Earth.” 

Her face twisted as she fought against the pain coursing through her chest.  She had no hope to offer about its course and no new reports of anyone who could divert the catastrophe headed their way.

She looked at the text in front of her.  It couldn’t be true.  If she didn’t read the words, it wouldn’t be true.  But it was her job.  “Tonight, Paris is in flames.” 

The whole world was a gigantic jigsaw puzzle being dismantled bit by bit; one more piece taken out and tossed into the jumbled pile that once made a picture and now only made a mess.  “Over the past few days, a mob has moved across the city leaving death and destruction in its wake.  This morning, we showed footage of their attempt to destroy the Eiffel Tower.  As of late this afternoon, that same mob focused their anger on the Louvre.  Beginning with the glass pyramid that has become as familiar a part of Paris as the gallery itself, a full frontal assault on the historic structures ensued.  We have reports several of the mob’s members were trampled in the crush to escape the pyramid’s falling shards.  At least two have been pronounced dead from their injuries.”  She stopped, swallowing hard while the director looked on, horrified.  Motioning nervously, he tried to get her to resume, but she sat battling against a twisted urge to burst into hysterical laughter. 

Yeah, yeah.  I took a lot of heat from a writing community I joined over that MC seeing herself on camera and describing herself there, but I seriously wasn't using the whole mirror image thing for that reason.  My thought was to show some level of the detachment she's feeling at this point.  :shrug:

As I said, this is my first book.  So no shredding apart of my maiden voyage.