I think I'm getting back into the full swing of writing my book, at last.
I've completely re-written Chapter 1. And I seriously hope that I'm not just seeing things but the more I read over it and how it flows into the rest of the manuscript, the better and better it's looking. It sets up a much better tone for the book that follows. It's more gripping. It's more "me" than the original version was. And that is what this project is about, isn't it? Reaching deep down and translating my heart and soul and mind onto the printed page. Being true to myself. Sometimes that is going to hurt. But there is also going to be a lot of humor too.
So the new first chapter is something I'm really stoked about more than I had become about the original.
The prologue has been somewhat re-written, but not drastically so. I'm also looking for quotations to begin each chapter. That... has proven to be a challenge. With 21 chapters thus far however and only two of them lacking quotes, I've made progress but I'm also on the lookout for better ones. Last night I did come across a quote that's perfect: it's a line from the classic novel A Canticle for Leibowitz. Which is neat because that's one of my all-time favorite works of science-fiction.
Despite the lack of work on the narrative manuscript, I have still been writing the "interludes" as events pertaining to my manic-depression have warranted. Last weekend was one such situation. The interlude which resulted from it, if I'm allowed to keep it in the book, will probably disgust some people. For what it's worth, it disgusted me. This is a psychiatric illness, and it's not going to be pleasant no matter how much I might try to paint over it. One of the reasons why I'm doing this book is so that it might evoke understanding about mental illness. There are things which are extraordinarily rare in being discussed, and I'm going to delve into those. Anyway, just going to let y'all know that there will be some harsh material in this, if it gets published.
I'm feeling better now. The past two and a half months have been an experience which I would not wish on anybody. There is still pain, still grief. This weekend it was like I felt Dad's presence, encouraging me to continue with the book just as he cheered me on to begin it. I'm not rushing into this: so many friends have discouraged me from charging headlong into writing it again. I'm just letting things proceed as they should. But it really does feel great to be back behind the keyboard again and writing something, for my book.
Last night I wrote two sentences for Chapter 22. So it's off and running. I'll try to write more today...
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