Shoved a full-flown memoir of my two years in Southeast Asia during the Viet-Nam War — “HOTEL CONSTELLATION: Notes from America’s Secret War in Laos” — to the family and a few very close (tolerant) friends.
Finished a supernatural adventure novel called “The Mark of the Spider” and sent it out to beta readers last spring. Still awaiting feedback, so that’s not promising.
Rewriting a straight sci-fi called “PSNGR” — formerly “The Passenger”? — seemingly forever. Instead of tackling chapter 28 today, I’m doing this.
I first wrote PSNGR as a long short story; then as a graphic novel when I had a comic book publisher willing to take a look at it. Now trying to finish it as a potential indie publishing project.
Bailed on my writer’s group for personal reasons having nothing to do with the calibre of their kind feedback.
Journeys, which is what this writing process was intended to be, can be tortuous. Witness The Odyssey. Which is not to say my journey has been nearly as exciting, or even interesting.
And the point is …
But I digress from my intent today, which is to point out links to two stories that struck my fancy.
Back from ThrillerFest 2014 in New York late Saturday night, made later by Virginia DOT’s decision to allow milling and paving on I-395 South that reduced traffic to one lane.
My overriding impression was that it was overwhelming. Established authors hobnobbing with aspiring writers in sessions, during book signings, over dinner and at the bar.
Substantive sessions on technicalities (guns, ballistics and bombs), techniques (first person vs. third person) and how-tos. (Fifty agents did speed dating with 400 wannabe-published writers in a chaotic three-and-a-half hour, four-room dance.)