A Lot Can Happen in Five Years and 10 Pages

I can’t remember the last time I had such a hard time editing an intro. But oh my word, Designing America is killing me!

In a strictly intellectual/creative sense, of course. I don’t mean to follow up last Wednesday’s thankfulness post by complaining about how difficult my life is. Let’s face it: If the worst thing I have to deal with is a challenging piece of fiction, then I’m doing pretty darn good.

I fully acknowledge that. I also fully acknowledge that there’s no good way to transition from how peachy I have it back to complaining, so I’m not going to bother.

Let’s just acknowledge that I’m being a whiny baby and move on…

The reason behind why I’m struggling so much with prettying up Designing America? It’s those dratted historical details I care so much about. Apparently the feeling isn’t reciprocal, since they seem bound and determined to make my editorial life a living nightmare.

I’ve already cut out entire paragraphs in the first 10 pages, even about details I really, really like. Yet there’s still so much backstory that needs to be addressed in order to set up the current tale.

After all, Maiden America took place at the very end of 1776, whereas its sequel happens five years later during the summer of 1781. A lot can happen in a five-year span and a lot did, both for the non-fiction America and the fictional Abigail Carpenter.

It’s not like I need to breakdown every single battle between the combatants and every conversation made about them. Otherwise, that would be a textbook, not a novel. Obviously.

Nonetheless, 1781 was an eventful year with a whole string of crazy coincidences and strange happenings that factored into the successful campaign at Yorktown, Virginia. So much so that my multiple sources repeatedly mentioned “providence” being at work.

These weren’t religious resources either. They were the kind of academic accounts that graduate students might refer to while compiling their doctoral theses. Yet these professionals were downright amazed at how many completely unpredictable pieces came together in just the right way and at just the right time to set up a game-changing victory.

All of which seems well worth mentioning.

So how do I tell it in a non-boring manner? That’s the $500 question I’m struggling with.

I’m sure I’ll come up with an answer.

Eventually.

Maybe right after I get a better attitude.

Designing America Is Done! Kinda… Sorta… Okay, Not Really.

I finished Designing America yesterday afternoon!

Admittedly, that makes it sound like a much bigger accomplishment than it actually is, so let me restate. I finished the first draft of Designing America. And I’m about 40,000 words short on my word count.

I was planning on writing a decent bit more before the “the end” part, but it just didn’t turn out that way. “The end” happened without asking for permission.

My stories are rude like that.

The thing is, normally they’re also a heck of a lot wordier. So I’m not quite sure what happened this time around.

One logical possibility is that I was focusing too much on the historical detail and not enough on the actual story. Because, guess what? I was.

I knew it all along, and I knew I’d have to fix it. There are so many important characters I introduced and then didn’t engage or utilize nearly well enough, all because I was so determined to get as many facts down as possible. At the expense of everything other than the plot.

The other reason why I might not have written as much as expected for this first draft is that – SPOILER ALERT! – the love interest isn’t even there most of the time. He’s in the very beginning and the very end. That’s it.

Without any swoons and sighs and such, it does make for a quicker read (and write).

Yet, regardless, I can’t be all that upset about the additional work I’m going to have to do for the second draft now that the first draft ended so soon. Not when it ended on such a perfect note!

I’m normally horrible about last lines. Like absolutely horrible. I hate them. They always sound so contrived to me. Might as well write “and they lived happily ever after,” as that’s as good as it’s going to get.

This one though? It’s beautiful! It’s perfect! It doesn’t require me to tear my hair out in anguish!

Which is a major relief. So I’m not going to look this mixed-gift horse in the mouth.

Designing America Draft 2? Here I come…

And yes, I promise the final copy will read like a story and not a history text book.