Opening the Oyster and Dreaming of Pearls

At left, from wikicommons a photograph of oysters by David Monniaux.

My eyes are different than yours and so the shading of this photograph strikes me as a more profound pattern than it does you. Color doesn't work for me anymore. The tones in the picture are however wonderful to me. I hope you enjoy it, too.
I'm certainly enjoying the privilege of having the image grace this page. Thanks, David!

I made oyster stew tonight. I'm drinking a fine cup of tea now. It's been a good day.

I finished a draft late yesterday evening.

The last big draft I finished, I took a day at the end to write myself the first round of "cooling" notes: those things that I thought I could resolve quickly in a next draft. I'll let the work cool in a drawer for a while, take it out, read my starting notes, read the entire draft slowly - twice - and then start with the big picture changes.

I'll also transpose all of the next draft into Scrivener as chapters are completed.

I solve big problems freehand better than I solve them in whatever writing software I use.

My first novel years ago, I staple bound individual chapters of the second draft, revised, then composed the new draft back into Word. It was so long ago that "track changes" was actually a bastardization of "team edit" settings! The first version was composed on Wordstar and imported, disk by disk.

Memory lane.

So, tonight: notes. Tomorrow morning: fleshing out the outline of the "next" as well as a critique session on the first pages of a novel a friend is writing.

I didn't find pearls in this version. I had fun and told the story. I didn't execute on what I wanted to say; but, I didn't quite know what that was until the end of the draft. It was difficult to understand my protagonist's desires. I know him better now.

Next draft will be the better for it.

Onto rural noir.

My protagonist is a sheriff. He's got a few skinned rattlesnake nailed to the wall inside his shed. He's thinking of custom boots.

Seems the snakes just keep taking a nap inside his mailbox.

There are a lot of hard edges to life when it's lived in those empty spots on the map.

Watch yourself opening the oysters. Mind you don't cut yourself.