Mistakes are really easy. It’s getting it right that’s difficult.
At the moment I’m thinking that the chapter and a half of book 2 of the new piece is going to need to be rewritten and slowed down massively. Why? Well, so far, my main character has been ambushed, escaped through sewers/drains, emerged in a bath house soaking wet, got caught in a panicked crowd when the enemy oopsed and set the bath house on fire (most places are built of wood), damn near been trampled in said crowd, damn near got crushed in said crowd because for reasons I don’t know yet the authorities had the city gates closed, escaped over roof tops, climbed city walls while fire spread through city (cold, dry, windy day), almost got caught, slid/fell down the other side, sprained or broke one ankle (not sure which) fell into damn cold river, got carried downstream a ways and may have passed out briefly.
Yes, that leaves me breathless as well, and there’s no way I can keep that pace up for a 50k word book. It’s too much. Hell, some authors (better ones than me) could have the 50k book just on what I’ve got so far.
Then there’s the domestic mistakes, like not getting someone in to look at and possibly fix the gas heater in the study. The rest of the house is fine despite temperatures way too low for this tropical brat (although we’re going through heating oil at a rate that makes both of us cringe), but the study, being an add-on without the benefit of 24-inch thick walls to help insulate, gets very little benefit from that – which is why it has the gas heater. I’m seriously wondering if we should have used the teeny second bedroom as a study instead, but the idea of hauling furniture up the stairs doesn’t appeal, funnily enough.
Oh, and it looks like the powder room pipes have frozen. The rest of the house, fine, but no water coming through those pipes. Yes, the powder room is in the add-on.
I have mentioned I’m a tropical brat and cold really isn’t my thing, right? Yes? Good. After 7 years in PA I’m getting better at it, but I still don’t like it, and the teens (Fahrenheit) are a bit bloody much. All you Canadians can start laughing now, but when you grow up somewhere that’s never once had snow, it’s traumatic. Yes I’m complaining. I can’t think to write when I’m trying to thaw out, so those who want to see more of my writing had better hope I get things sorted.