Weather report:
84 degrees and light showers-- outside
Beastly cold-- inside (which does not refer to the temperature or to my state of mind, but to nose and throat and head)
Equipment: tissues, cough drops, coffee, Holly Lisle's book on How to Revise Your book in Seven Days, Browne & King's book Self-Editing for Fiction Writers, Strunk & White's The Element of Style, a spiral notebook, pens, and red,orange, and green posta-notes, and the hard-copy of my WIP, I am ready to begin.
Since there are very few quotation marks in the WIP, I am going to clear up the punctuation as I go. This is a departure from Lisle's process, but along with Doubt (that I have the wits to accomplish this task) and Dread (it seems a monumental task), I have had quotation marks dancing in my head. So, I will type them once and for all into the dialogue and hope that they will settle down and be quiet so I can get on to the more serious stuff --- identifying irrelevant rabbit trails, giving bodies and settings and actions to talking heads, and weeding out passive verbs which I love when God uses them as in: "But to each one of us grace was given according to the measure of Christ's gift." (Eph 4:7 NKJ), but which tend to slow down the action and muddle the narrative when I use them.
Procrastination also slows down the action. A friend's daughter is turning 40. What a MILESTONE that is...er ....was....I remember I was determined to stay awake till the bitter end of my 39th year so I did and watched the clock tick off the last minutes. Right at the stroke of 12, some friends called from Illinois to sing "Happy Birthday to me". That call was a gift. I hung up and went right to sleep.
Before I get right down to SELF-EDITING, casting off procrastination and opening up the WIP, I am going to send ODE to FORTY a poem I wrote for a friend of mine to my friend for her daughter. I have posted it here at the bottom.
Till tomorrow..."Things are not to be done by the effort of the moment, but by the preparation of past moments." (Richard Cecil, Joy and Strength, p.123)
Blessings, Ann :o )
PS If you like this poem and think reading it would be an encouragement to anyone else who is in the "pit of despond" because of turning 40, you are welcome to copy it. EnJOY.
PS Jr. I have really got to get to work.
PS III Today, starting Chap 1: p.1
Ode to A 40 Year Old
Remember Forty is the beginning, not the end,
So welcome to the club, my friend.
When we wallowed in our youth,
Often unruly, but never uncouth,
Forty loomed as a decrepit age,
A barely, believable, ancient stage.
But, oh, how the years have changed our view!
How young I seem, and how young, you!
These years have added maturity,
And I can say, with much assure-ity,
We're freer now than in our teens
And all those awkward ages in-between.
We've learned through conflict, love, and tears
To identify and conquer some of our fears.
We're much better able when the subject comes up
To answer, “What will you be when you grow up?”
This is not to say the years haven't take their toll,
But you and I know, we'll never be old
As long as our wrinkles and achilles' heels
Don't get in the way of the youth we feel.
As we keep our minds open to each new view,
How young I'll seem, and how young, you!
(Ann Westerman)
