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What Happened While Writing My Only Novel!? 7/11/2009 12:48:57 PM
I worked like a "devil-possessed" when I did work on my novel, "The Last Renaissance Man" during the late 90's. Including pretty thorough & detailed historical research. But when I didn't work on it, I played piano & composed my music as always; rebellion set in against being two things. Here's what's happened since. I had so much fun writing it; living in my own little world of English composer-protagonist, literary genius, enthusiast of new sciences and just plain old beer-tippler, harpsichord-tinkler, score-scribbling-cock-containing Renaissance Man Sir Henry. He's a 17th century version of theatrical rock star; I was so consumed with him THAT--I forgot(or was immune to)the sordid realities of 21st century publishing.
As I skated out on the thin ice of the new day, I got further and further from shore; I crossed genres. At first I heard a slight creaking, then a sizzling crack that finally echoed in my consciousness reminding me that I had committed myself (and more time than I ever imagined) to this dangerous foray. Finally there was a WHACK! Slam and oooooh! It was shocking, how frigid those literary waters...
I fell through - and drowned!
PS: (POST-MORTEM:) I still have a delightful memory and a Shakespearean fantasy of having enjoyed the book--even after being forced to "self-edit" it over twelve times! (And post publishing regrets that the opening chapter sequences may have been better before second guessing the order)
But if I do get resurrected - I'll never skate on literary thin ice again!