So yesterday Susan officially wrote The End on Heroes Til Curfew. There was happy dancing and some tears (on her part because she finally finished and on mine because I got to a part in the book where even though I KNEW it was going to turn out okay because I’ve known the plot of this book since its inception, I was totally losing it with Joss, which is, you know, Susan’s Talent). I’m working my way through for critique and not finding much, which is great, as it means probably a very fast turn around and not a lot in the way of revisions. Which is always a yay.
We got to talking yesterday about how far we’ve come as writers since we found each other five years ago. Believe me, it’s a long way, particularly for me.
Somehow or other the conversation turned to Hunted In Shadow, the book that got me back into paranormal, spawned the Mirus, and then got sent to the manuscript graveyard because it no longer fit the metaplot I created. Sometimes when I go back and read things, I’m pleasantly surprised, so I decided to dig it out, take a peek, and see if it could be adapted and quickly revised such that it won’t interfere with my metaplot and so I’d have something else to release.
I got through two scenes and had to close it because it was just too painful. Really? I’ve come that far as a writer in the last three years? This was the last book I wrote before I discovered story structure and it shows. But even the prose, the voice was…not where I am now.
I’ve really gotten to where I’m pretty averse to going back and re-reading old work because, damn, I just don’t want to remember being that….not good. There are a few isolated exceptions. Til Death is still solid and it’s of the same vintage–voice was never a problem with my Mississippi based romantic suspense. That was totally plot and structure as an issue, which can be fixed (and one of these days I will because I just really LOVED those characters). But for the most part…I’d rather just accept that I’m a much stronger writer now without being forced to go down memory lane. Kind of the same way I’d like to make that video of my last show choir performance go away so nobody can watch me floundering on the back row (as the only reason they let me in was because I am LOUD and they needed more of an alto section and they stuck me on the back row where no one would notice my two left feet). I know I was in show choir. I have the memories. I don’t need to be reminded of the reality of how much I can’t dance.