my name is mud
Whenever I ate mudcake, I always used to say to myself (and often out aloud if I happened to be in the company of others) that cake's name was mud. I open this week's blog with that line for no other reason than the title of the blog reminds me of that quirky cake eating habit.
I have nothing profound to say about cakes today.
Today I want to talk about the procrastination of the weekend past. It actually was not that bad.
Spent Saturday (on and off as it was such a lovely Spring day for a walk) editing the second novel. Would be better to describe it as adding in a few paragraphs, here and there, to firm up a couple of twist plot threads that caught my 'test' readers too much by surprise. The two people who read the draft, who are in my target demographic, both were completely blown away by the ending. Sure, there were clues throughout the story though my 'reveal' was always meant to surprise the reader. I was determined to pack a punch and make the reader go back to read the book again to find the clues. But the clues were far too subtle even for my astute testers. I also edited to improve the links to what will now be a prequel and sequel to the story.
Sunday was far less productive. Six hours to write three paragraphs. Yes, there was another long walk in between the epic procrastination. I was writing the opening scene of the prequel. Spent much of the time thinking about ways to describe mud other than it being a bit smelly and sticky. Turns out there are many ways to describe it. Though I did not think of any of them until just before I dozed off to sleep well into the night. I managed to write another page and a half this morning in less than an hour, fresh from a night's sleep dreaming about mud.
The mind works in mysterious ways.
And my name is no longer mud.