Five Years Ago

Five years ago, I penned my first novel, Seeking Eleanor. In my haste to show the world how brilliant I was, I sent it out to agents, made my friends and family read it, and sat back with a smug satisfaction over finishing a 170,000 word novel. Yes, you read that right. 

170,000 words.  

Turns out, my celebration was a bit premature because, as it goes, the book wasn't great. In fact, it was a bit cliched and overdone.

Oh, I know, it's a faux paus to say this, especially about a book I am going to start querying again, but I'm a rebel, and we all know about my affection for honesty. Don't worry, I'm not being down on myself, I don't think I'm a terrible writer who has no business being creative. For the most part, I'm a good writer. I can totally craft an appealing sentence from time-to-time and created some rather dreamy characters, both male and female. 

This doesn't change the fact that my first novel wasn't great. Sure, there were parts that were good and, under so much blahness, the bones to Seeking Eleanor were actually really awesome. This doesn't change the fact I didn't understand tense or passive and active voice. I'm embarrassed I actually allowed other people to read it. That I sent it to agents. But that was all back in the beginning, when I was new and fresh on the scene. While there is much to say of my mistakes and stupidity, I was ready to learn. I cannot tell you all the amazing things I've learned form all the amazing people I've met in the last five years.

It is through this learning and the meeting of these wonderful ladies and gentleman that I have grown. I have changed. After five years and countless reviews, I haven't given up on Seeking Eleanor. In fact, I just finished a massive rewrite that kept those awesome bones I loved and did away with all the things people are sick of reading about, like mind reading and an inept heroines. This girl is my baby and I love her more today than I did the first draft. It's been a long journey and she spent a fair bit of time tucked away in a drawer until I understood what needed to be done to make her shine. 

Don't get me wrong. It hurt to come to terms with the fact my first book pretty much sucked, but at least I had a good idea. One I could build off of in the future. Which is now. The future is now. This is getting confusing. All I am trying to say is, sometimes you have to admit something sucks in order to change it into something that doesn't. I'm not saying Seeking Eleanor will be snatched up and loved by the first agent I send it too. I'm just saying it's witty, fun, and I love her. 

We've come a long way and I suspect we have a long way to go still. 

Sheep Teeth

What an odd title for a post, right? I mean, what could I possibly have to say about sheep teeth. Well, in fact, nothing. I have nothing to say about sheep teeth, except this.

A friend of mine, Missy, is editing through Seeking Eleanor. Yeah, yeah, that same old first book I wrote. No, I won't give up on her. You can't make me! I love her, love her. And she deserves the limelight she will one day get. *insert anguished cry here* Now, where were we ...

Despite all the edits (over a million) and rewrites (at least seven) there are still typos. Mostly because, I am human and I make mistakes. God, that was hard to admit. Actually, a bit painful. The simple fact is, when I sit on my human butt and read with my human eyes, I don't see all my human mistakes. Even worse, I didn't even stand a chance at catching the ones in the draft Missy is reading and this is because, just between us, I didn't even read through it after I finished rewriting.

Yes, that means I actually handed her a semi-rough draft. I know, I am a terrible person.

So, she's actually catching things I might have caught on my own. I use the word 'might' because it's touch and go with what I actually see when I read. The truth of the matter is, there are certain things I will never catch because I know what it is supposed to say and my brain fills in the correct word and punctuation and crap. The only way for me to catch everything is to print it off and read it aloud. Because I have a huge respect for trees and an appalling disgust with the price of ink, I won't be printing out my manuscript, which is currently four hundred and thirty pages. Yeah, that's a lot of pages.

And I was supposed to be cutting stuff. Oh, that makes me laugh.

Back to the point, one of the edits Missy came across and corrected was 'sheep teeth'. There's this part at the end of the book where good meets evil and evil has sheep teeth. I actually laughed myself silly over this mistake. I mean, there's the bad guy standing in front of you, skin paper white, eyes yellow and bloody, lips cracked and bleeding, and behind them sheep teeth.

Not really the imagery I was going for. 

Sure, sheep teeth are totally terrifying when you get in there and really look at them. And maybe they would have added a certain uniqueness to my baddie, but they aren't exactly the image I was hoping to conjure in the minds of my future readers. Still, it gave me a good laugh. It also makes me wonder about how my fingers are trying to sabotage me. Sometimes the simple act of typing amazes me. I think one thing and my fingers put it down on virtual paper. Well, not all the time. Sometimes they put in a similar word. Like sheep instead of sharp. This might not surprise you, but it happens a fair amount. Which only confirms my suspicions that my hands hate me. 

Haha. Sheep teeth. 

Grateful for my sense of humour.