I’ve noticed that when something hurts physically I go to bed or its equivalence. I’m nowhere near the discomfort or seriousness of some of my followers, but I’ve also sort of shut down. I’ve realized my only Create Space-published novel needs re-working but if I live long enough to do that it’ll probably be filled with the gibbery-goo language of extreme old age. I’ve added only on my computer two final chapters and the aborted beginning of a sequel, but… At present I’ve been attempting the beginning of 2 or 3 additional novels, but it’s pretty much mush pile. Actually I’ve written 4 different beginnings for one of them. Caught in a quagmire.
I even picked up “How to Write & Sell Your First Novel” by Oscar Collier with Frances Spatz Leighton at a yard sale price of 50 cents, and possibly got an idea that I’m going to try, I think. It involves preparing a folder for every chapter, and after some degree of outlining, drop thoughts or paragraphs into those chapters as I go. So, despite having a bad leg day, I am beginning that mini-project, if I can find the blank folders without necessitating a walk to my car 50 feet away. (Complain, complain, complain!) What were the words Jim Neighbors used to use?
I will share my favorite paragraphs from my first novel–I’ve never communicated with anyone who has actually read the book, Shattered Boundaries. (I am in a position to advise you not to self-publish if you aren’t the pushy type): At this point in the novel the heroine has astral-traveled and stayed away from her body way beyond the safe limits:
…to her horror she notices that the cord has run out! When Amber reaches the house no one is home. She eases into her room and she is not there–here–either! My body is gone! Amber jumps when the phone rings. She realizes that she cannot answer it, but Rob’s voice on the answering machine does. It is a woman enquiring abut the time of the funeral.
Funeral! Who died?