Today, I found myself Googling the Southern British Columbia Geographical Survey to find out if there are caves in Maple Ridge, because I thought of a really good way to change a scene in StP that makes it much less stupid, and ties together with three other scenes, and does some worldbuilding without seeming to do anything at all. (Answer: yes on caves, no on where I needed them. Decision: fuck that, this is my universe, there are caves if I say there are caves.) I can possibly take this as a sign.
So now I am thinking, perhaps I will just offer up my first loves to the grind, instead, and try with Riverwend later? Keep working on editing, of course, non-stop (except for November, of course, which is NaNo), but perhaps take more time? I spent some time on various forums this afternoon and the general consensus seems to be that it's easier to sell a shorter book, even if it's in a trilogy, than a longer book. And Meadhon can, theoretically, I think, stand alone (though I really, really wouldn't want it to), and that's good as a first book, and Meadhon is unquestionably YA (which is good and apparently very popular right now), but Riverwend is, as I think I have mentioned... strange. It does not properly fit any potential genre, not entirely, and it is also, er, incredibly fucking long. In strictest submission format it's over 600 pages, and that's scary even to me. On top of that, whenever I open the book, it's making me, obscurely, uncomfortable, which is something I'm not sure how to explain. But there it is. Uncomfortable. Unhappy. It's a new thing for me and writing, because usually I don't think about it this much - I just do. (And this would be why.)
And that's setting aside the fact that just now, I kind of hate it with a fiery passion. I don't, really, not really, but you know what I mean. I love it, but I hate it. It's my problem child, and I want nothing more, right now, than to kick it very hard in its bottom and send it for a time-out in the corner.
This makes me feel guilty. :(
So, I don't know. I still haven't come up with a title for the first Meadhon book I actually like. But next week it will be all ready for strangers to read - and I know no one stranger than you people. (I kid. I kid because I love. ^.^)
It is kind of pathetic, though, right? That at the moment I am cowering in terror of my own manuscript, which sits enormous and malevolent and puzzling on top of the scanner.
And now I'm in a huffy mood, so I'm going to go make some tea.
Californians, be safe.