Saturday, November 21, 2009

Writing

It's not enough to just write the book. Just as I was beginning to think I was in the home stretch, working on the third draft ten years later, editing and revising thanks to the many blogs on the internet I discovered that I now also need a social platform. That means that hundreds of people maybe even thousands regularly tune into facebook or twitter to hear what I have to say.

I haven't figured out the magical draw yet, as I doubt anyone besides myself has read this blog. Maybe I can use Samual Pepys entry for Wednesday, November 21, 1660 as a model to follow. This is what he had to say about today, way back then.

"Lay long in bed. This morning my cozen Thomas Pepys, the turner, sent me a cupp of lignum vitae1 for a token. This morning my wife and I went to Paternoster Row, and there we bought some green watered moyre for a morning wastecoate. And after that we went to Mr. Cade’s to choose some pictures for our house. After that my wife went home, and I to Pope’s Head, and bought me an aggate hafted knife, which cost me 5s. So home to dinner, and so to the office all the afternoon, and at night to my viallin (the first time that I have played on it since I came to this house) in my dining room, and afterwards to my lute there, and I took much pleasure to have the neighbours come forth into the yard to hear me. So down to supper, and sent for the barber, who staid so long with me that he was locked into the house, and we were fain to call up Griffith, to let him out. So up to bed, leaving my wife to wash herself, and to do other things against to-morrow to go to court."

After I develop a 'Platform'  I move on to writing a proposal and then a query seeking to connect my book with an agent and publisher.

So, here's the beginning of unabashed public self disclosure: 43,890 words written. Saturday. Sunny Mild Day. Unplugged refrigerator to defrost freezer so freezer drawer will open. Carried two turkeys upstairs and put in other refrigerator. Trimmed the dogs, Thunder and Thor. Folded laundry. Visited 98 year old mother who was in a fine mood singing the refrain to 'I'm an Old Cowhand from the Rio Grand'.

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