So, in editing My Best Novel, I discovered a hell of a shocker... a sex scene, four pages in length. Now, I wrote this book 8 years ago, so I was a 21-year-old virgin. BUT, I had recently had a girlfriend at the time, so sex was pretty much constantly on my mind. Now, at the age of 28, I realize that we can't all write like Anne Rice. And I am GLAD that I have not been published yet. I still have a lot to learn about writing, and if I had been published 8 years ago, I'd be that sex-crazed author with a vendetta against poodles. (I omitted Vicky Argo's poodles from the story so as to spare them from her psychotic husband and a 21-year-old me.)
I'm still editing, but will most likely finish tonight. Then, the query-writing process begins. I am NOT looking forward to that at all, because they expect me to turn a 600-page novel with dozens of characters and subplots into three sentences. I don't know how I'm going to do it. But, as I wrote myself (and didn't remember writing until I saw it today), "The sooner you get started, the sooner you can brag to your buddies about how easy it was." Apparently, that's what psycho cop Harold Argo's grandfather used to say. Little details like that fell through the cracks in my brain. 8 years' worth of cracks.
So yeah, I gotta get busy. More later!
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