That's really what it feels like. Every time I think I'm coming to
the end of the rewrite of In The Dark, I notice three or four more
places where I've started to say one thing and then finished some
completely different sentence. What if you had to take an existing
house of cards, and go through them to make sure all the faces were
oriented the same way, without just knocking the whole thing down and
starting over. Oh, and when you get halfway done, you realize it
looks better with them facing the other way. Yeah.
A bit late posting this. Claudia was vending at San Japan over the
weekend and just got home. I wasn't able to get the time off to go
with her, so I got this weekend to myself. Nice, but I'm glad to
have her back.
Next part may get a bit self-indulgent. Be warned.
I'm also getting to that point where I'm doubting every single thing
about the book, from the title, through the opening line, and all the
way to the part where nothing look the last sentence that I was
thinking 'Damn this is good' when I first typed it. I've read and
reread the same lines over and over again, and am nearly at the point
where I want to pull up the file and just click 'Delete.' My
thoughts keep coming back to something I saw back when I regularly
watched TV. I don't know if it was a one-shot show or part of a
series, but at some point a few years ago I saw a documentary about
the struggles of a salvage crew as they tried to float a ship that
had run aground somewhere on the coast of Alaska. They planned out
their tactics in good detail, had enough experience to know what they
were doing, and were ready with a backup plan if something went
wrong. They went in there ready to take charge and kick some butt.
With a set up like that, you know what happened. Everything, and I
mean everything, went wrong. The ship was deeper in the sand than
they had thought it was, equipment failed, and the weather turned
against them. After trying everything they could, the captain had no
choice but to cut his losses and head for home. Before he did, he
said, “Right now I'd just like to take this thing out to the middle
of the ocean and blow some holes in it.” I keep seeing an image of
what the captain's face would look like at that exact moment. The
troublesome ship is floating in the water a safe distance away, his
crew have planted the explosives and are back on board to stand with
him, and the detonator is in his hand. He takes a long, deep breath
to savor the moment, then he pushes the button. Flash, boom. Sound
and fury. How long would a big ship take to go down into that cold,
black nothingness? I have no idea, but I know what expression would
be on the captains face while he watched, and I have an idea that it
would last for quite a while.
Click, select 'Delete,' click. Close my eyes and breathe a long,
contented sigh. I am free.
Yeah. Then spend every remaining second of my life regretting that
one click. I know myself that well, at least.
Now let me get back to rewriting.
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