David Martin has been accepted for publication by Lightning Source. I have no idea how long it will take to make its way into book stores or online for purchasing; the e-book may be the only version available for a while. But it's out there, now, and I feel a lot better...satisfied, almost. Once I see a copy, I'll decide how to proceed with a hardcover version.
The last time I felt this sense of satisfaction was when I got the first two sections of Bobby Carapisi published. That one was a struggle to write, and completing it...this was before I'd decided to let Allen tell his story...it was like I'd fulfilled a promise. To my characters. The books didn't sell very well, but they have been read. Eric's and Bobby's stories have been told in other people's minds, and that's what counted.
With DM, it's a more general promise fulfilled. I made a first step when I posted it on this blog, a while back, but the story wanted to be something people could hold and feel and share, not just read. So there it is...and I feel good.
Something else I feel is weary. I don't want to wade through IF/NYPDB again. I took that on as a favor, just to rewrite a script so many years ago...but the story wrapped itself around me and I now feel an obligation to see that it's told in the best way I can. So I can't just dump it. But having to go through it, line by line because I don't know what the other guy did and didn't do in his third grade grammar...it's daunting. I just want to get it done, but I can't push through. When I do that, I make massive mistakes in spelling and grammar, myself.
What a way to write. I can't do a decent job on a piece unless I'm invested in it, so I guess I'll never be a good gun for hire in the script doctoring realm. Hell, I'm still attached to Straight On Till Morning, an adaptation I did of Beryl Markham's life story, and I'll never be able to do anything with that. No one will tell me who owns the film rights, now.
Yeah, yeah, I got nothing else to do but chase after a movie biography about a woman next to no one's heard about that'd cost a hundred million to make -- real good use of time.
The last time I felt this sense of satisfaction was when I got the first two sections of Bobby Carapisi published. That one was a struggle to write, and completing it...this was before I'd decided to let Allen tell his story...it was like I'd fulfilled a promise. To my characters. The books didn't sell very well, but they have been read. Eric's and Bobby's stories have been told in other people's minds, and that's what counted.
With DM, it's a more general promise fulfilled. I made a first step when I posted it on this blog, a while back, but the story wanted to be something people could hold and feel and share, not just read. So there it is...and I feel good.
Something else I feel is weary. I don't want to wade through IF/NYPDB again. I took that on as a favor, just to rewrite a script so many years ago...but the story wrapped itself around me and I now feel an obligation to see that it's told in the best way I can. So I can't just dump it. But having to go through it, line by line because I don't know what the other guy did and didn't do in his third grade grammar...it's daunting. I just want to get it done, but I can't push through. When I do that, I make massive mistakes in spelling and grammar, myself.
What a way to write. I can't do a decent job on a piece unless I'm invested in it, so I guess I'll never be a good gun for hire in the script doctoring realm. Hell, I'm still attached to Straight On Till Morning, an adaptation I did of Beryl Markham's life story, and I'll never be able to do anything with that. No one will tell me who owns the film rights, now.
Yeah, yeah, I got nothing else to do but chase after a movie biography about a woman next to no one's heard about that'd cost a hundred million to make -- real good use of time.
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