Behold, the first typed draft of Odd Duck.
It’s not an unholy mess, if only because I haven’t started cursing it, yet. But as I wrote a lot of it in random pieces very, very quickly instead of chronologically in a thoughtful manner, there’s some organization to be done.
An alternate scene or two that could have happened, if I hadn’t suddenly decided on a different path, need to be yanked out and stripped down for spare parts. Some scenes are cool, but belong to a different book and some are necessary but maaaybe not as cool as I’d like. It’s possible some aren’t written yet, and a couple crossed the time streams and belong both before and after their less wibbily-wobbly neighbors because my imagination is a secret Time Lord a Möbius strip a place of wonder and mystery needs a new memory chip was working a few things out as we went.
I also have to replace all those placer X‘s and fly-by, bracketed [FIND OUT THIS LATER NOTES] with proper names and actual research—incidentally, anyone remember which episode of CSI—or was it Law & Order—traced the murderer through cell phone towers and CCTV? No reason, just curious.
Yesterday, I printed everything out and shuffled all the scenes into an approximation of order—it took two tables, a stapler refill, and a few purple post-its.
The next step, I think, is to write out a outline-summary of what needs to happen and when.
As I mentioned to a snowed-in friend yesterday (Hey, indy—is the dog buried, yet?), I attempt to outline like I’m telling someone the entire plot of a movie over a single lunch break and am trying to keep them from running away or snoring into their fettucine.
We’ll see how it goes.
Onward.
Earful of Cider 