Well, Birthday Month came and went like a whirlwind. I have no idea how that happened. My guess is between family, a roller coaster of offline and non-writing shenanigans, a month-long challenge on Bluesky (#Septopolis—click for TNS worldbuilding fun), and getting into draft 6 in earnest, thirty days went by like a blink.
But I’m older, and that’s a thing. I never thought too much about my birthday, but there was something about this one that felt a little more exciting. A little more new. Probably because I’ve made it a point to go out and find joy in small things lately. (Thanks, newfound love of bees?)
In any case, so we’re here, starting with the sixth draft of a story I’ve been working on since 2022, and it’s a little like coming home.
Writing Update
Content warning for this section! I’ll be talking about body horror here, so if you’re squeamish, consider skipping to Looking Forward.
Granted, I’ll be honest. The first few chapters were definitely filled with self-doubt. I’d be lying if I said what the betas told me was a tough pill to swallow. They were right, though: the pacing of the first half of the novel had been rough the last time we were here, and admittedly, it’s something I’m both hyper aware of right now and also something I’ll need to tweak later. As of this writing, we’ve just gotten past the aftermath of The Dragoning, which happened at 26k, compared to last draft’s 32k. We’ll definitely need to cut down more to get there faster.
But at the same time, I also feel like I have a more solid grip on both Mick’s character (obviously, as I’d removed Eleanor’s POV) and his motivations. Some details about who he is are up for getting chopped off (the more I work on this story, the more the whole can’t-do-magic thing gets downplayed in importance), while others are front, center, and now massive(ly fascinating) character flaws. So all in all, it’s been fun.
It’s also been fun comparing my writing between drafts. I’d gotten a taste of it with editing TIS, but TNS, it really comes into focus because I’m going back and forth between drafts, pulling details and seeing what I did where, not just with last draft but with every other one before it.
And man, it’s so interesting to see how far I’ve come in just three and a half years.
For fun, here’s the very first look at Mick’s transformation, way back when I first posted They Never Tell People about Curses in February 2022:
They never tell people about how agonizing curses are.
Not the ones a person just lives with or the ones they don’t realize are curses until they are—the classic ones. The ones where one picks up an amulet, hoping to gift it to their traveling partner (they have no idea how to tell her how they really feel, but they’re happy to be her friend and more than happy to see her smile), only to have it bind to them and bestow on them the blessings of some long-forgotten forest god. From the stories, one would think that it’d be quick—that the curse would spread like fire to consume them down to their last sinew and replace them piece by piece in all but heart and mind with something else—and it is . . . if they’re merely watching the thing.
But feeling. Oh gods, feeling it, from the inside. The fire of one’s skin blistering into scales. The swell of their bones against muscles that can barely keep up. Fangs erupting in a twisting face; fingernails twisting into claws with the violence of a hundred red-hot needles stabbing into fingertips. Electricity pulsing down their back and shocking their limbs into submission while their spine erupts into a tail and their new wings unfurl, wet and glistening in the morning haze.
And the senses! Opening one’s eyes to a blurry world, a world that resolves itself into black and white and too many fine details. Sharpened hearing that rings with the screams of one’s partner. The taste of sulfur and fire on one’s tongue and blood in the back of their throat.
By contrast, here’s the same moment as told in the rough, unedited cut of draft 6, written just the other day:
Fire.
All Mick could see and feel at first was fire. At first, it was outside, burning away the troll and driving Eleanor to hide behind one of the arches. He could smell the searing of troll flesh, the odor of cooked meat. He could sense it pouring out of him and down the steps, and he could hear the popping and screeching of thousands of mosskin dying by flame.
But then the fire turned inward, onto his body and deep into his bones. Every nerve, every fiber of his being screamed all at once as he melted away, broke apart, pulled back together into something else. His back hit the rainbow-flooded floor, and electric lumina flooded him and sent him unfurling outwards further than his body should have allowed. His fingers stretched into claws. His mouth opened wide for fangs too big for his skull. Something burned at his shoulder blades and shredded his flesh to emerge, flapping wet and cold against the floor.
At last, his world went dark, save for a pinprick of light hovering far above him.
I once said in a stream, “If brevity is the soul of wit, then I am a dumbass,” and that still stands true. Is draft 6’s take perfect? No. Is it long? Yes. But is it tighter than the original? In so many ways, yes. The original wanted to describe that driver’s-seat vantage of a painful transformation. It wanted you to feel the pain and agony of what Mick was going through. But it’s also wandering and repetitive. A little distant, even. And granted, draft 6 still isn’t quite there (I feel like it’s a little too attempted-psychedelic/confusing and could use a little more tightening), the phrasing’s more dynamic and focused.
I guess my main point is this: It’s very easy to get discouraged when you think you’re at your best, and you’re told that you could do better. But the important thing is, you probably thought you were at your best three years ago too. Progress is often subtle. You change habits and techniques the more you practice, the more you surround yourself with like-minded folks, and the more you’re told what does and doesn’t work. You don’t have to study it hardcore, even. You just need to be open to learning and tweaking as you go.
So here, you have Mick three years ago, stumbling through a transformation in a strange little short story that was thrown together in an afternoon and looks like it was thrown together in an afternoon, and three years later, you have Mick being torn apart and put back together in a process that’s all color and fire and wet. And that’s because I’ve been working on this for three years. And also because several people have told me I write like crap, haha.
Which is to say, the more I’m working on this draft, the more I’m getting excited about it. I really can’t wait to show folks who have been following this for three years where it’s going next.
Downside is, we’re going into new territory, as this story’s deviating from the earlier drafts. I’m following a tip the most thorough of last round’s betas gave me, which was to get to the incident earlier and then do something with it. But writing this all out, I’m sure I’ll be fine. We’re getting bee people by the end of the month.
Looking Forward
As I’ve noted last month, I’ve decided to not engage with pitch events for the foreseeable future. However, here’s a few notes on where we’re heading for the next few months:
Right now on Bluesky, the October edition of #LGBTQWriteAThon is in full swing. I am intending on getting back into the community, so you’ll be seeing daily posts and chatter wherein I talk with fellow queer writers and also talk about my own queer writing self. By extent, that means TNS.
There is also the daily accountability thread, where I’ll be posting word count updates and general notes/thoughts on progress every single day. Or memes. It’ll probably eventually devolve into memes.
I am still holding writing livestreams every Tuesday night, starting at 8:30 PM ET (word sprints to start at 9 PM ET) on YouTube. Follow that and subscribe for updates if you’d like to watch me write, you’d like to co-write with me, or you’d like to hear my thoughts on all kinds of fun things.
I still don’t have formal plans for November, but I might just bring back a NaNoWriMo challenge for myself. Sure, the NaNo site and accompanying org were dodgy af, but I do miss sitting down every day and hammering out 1.6k words. Besides, by then, we should be around Act III or IV, so it’ll be a handy way to keep me going.
We are, on that note, currently entering Act II with this draft, so at this rate, if I can keep up momentum, we might even see draft completion by the beginning of next year. Fingers crossed, though, and no guarantees.
Pic of the Month
At this point, Beenjamin has become my unofficial mascot according to Bluesky, but honestly, I love taking him to different places, taking pictures of him, and sharing them on my TL. I realize it’s a little weird, but it also gets me to do new things now and then.
Ergo, pics from my birthday, including a trip to the Guggenheim and a quiet birthday evening:
ALT: View from inside the Guggenheim. White walkways spiral up an atrium full of plants hanging from the ceiling, to a dome skylight.
ALT: Beenjamin (a plush bee) peeks at Mountains at Saint-Rémy by Vincent van Gogh (a painting in swirling browns, blues, and greens, of a stand of trees and a lake within a valley, with mountains in the background).
ALT: Beenjamin hovers over a small strawberry cream cake. A small, plastic sign reads “Happy Birthday” in cursive. The only form of lighting is a lit, yellow birthday candle.
As always, thanks for reading! Don’t forget to keep an eye on Bluesky for minor updates between the hefty monthly ones.