Six chapters left at roughly 15,000 per and averaging not that I’ve done the math but this is a gut-check one thousand words a scene that’s, well. 90 scenes left and we’re done, out. Finished.
That’s it.
—What? I’m fairly certain I’ve mentioned the thing about how there’s 22 episodes before. The underlying structural metaphor has always been a bog-standard Yankee genre TV show; the average number of episodes per season for such is 22; the fact that the Major Arcana has 22 cards should in no way be seen as anything other than a coincidence, honest, for true. (I know I must’ve made that joke before. Mustn’t I?)
Can I show you something?
That well-worn piece of paper is about six years old, I’d say. Sometimes. Other times, I’d say it’s seven, or five. —Ever since whenever it was I scratched it out, it’s been somewhere around my writing station, wherever that might be. Currently it’s hanging square above my monitor from a gooseneck clamp. It’s pretty much what passes for an outline, hereabouts. —You don’t see it? Each hashmark is an episode, see? I’m plotting out the act breaks over the course of the megilla, seeing how much room I had here and there and where I had to start thinking about the MOWs, the Monsters of the Week, and if I got the first act break wrong (the knighthood and the duel happened in no. 9, not no. 7), well, I damn well nailed nos. 14 and 15, didn’t I, from oh so long ago. (Of course everything after 15’s a bit off or worse: I mean, “shoots Orlando,” well, that happened in no. 8, for fuck’s sake, and as for the rest—but that would be telling.)
Three acts, then, of (roughly) seven episodes each, with an extra at the end for the big finish. That’s one way to break it down and look it over—but whichever way you do it: 22’s the number.
Six left, then:
No. 17: Deliverance
No. 18: Dazzle
No. 19: Moon
No. 20: Sun
No. 21: Gallowglas
No. 22: Maiestie
Six to go. Fifteen per. 90,000 words; ninety scenes left.
(Of course, most every Yankee genre TV show aims to last at least five seasons of 22 episodes each—)
Posted 5124 days ago.
So! Last year a pledge, a promise, a proposal was made: to have written six full chapters by about now. —How’d that go?
Not so much; despite a valiant end-of-year effort to Get the Dam’ Thing Done Already, we’re going to have to call it at four-and-a-half done out of six.
Oh well.
(I am working on it. Honest.)
Of course, there was also a hope: that there might come to pass “some additional formats such as ebooks and audiobooks and suchlike”—
So there’s that. —And while the serial nature of this enterprise is paramount (“It’s terribly—episodic,” the Editor says, having looked it over, or the Agent, with that Tone in their voice that tells you there’s a Look on their face, so I say, “Well, yeah—”), there’s something about a neatly bound stack of paper, you know?
Expectations are raised, however, when a work becomes a product in the marketplace; benchmarks ought to be set, and checked, to see how well one is, what’s the word, performing—so I figured, there’s hope, yes, but let’s not let it get too high, you know? Say, a nice round figure, maybe on average we sell a book a day? —Nothing exorbitant.
Well. So much for that.
(You might, if you take a close look at those numbers, say, but Kip! There’s 91 sales via Smashword in November! —And I’d say, well, but: those were giveaways. —And so.)
(While we’re opening up the books, here’s the average daily traffic for each year we’ve been around:
(One takes what solace one can from the general upward trend?)
But. But but but.
The whole point—one of the whole points—of doing this the way it’s being done is precisely to do whatever it is without the contant checking of those benchmarks and the checking them again; to never be in a position where an Editor might come from a meeting with Finance, shaking their head sadly and sucking their teeth, pondering how best to pull the plug. Means of production and all that. There’s only one number in all this heap that means much of anything:
Four. And a half.
—In 2010, only three chapters were completed; this represents another year-over-year increase in output of fifty percent.
So I feel pretty confident (being Editor, and Agent, and Finance, and Plug, all at once) in projecting an actual six chapters completed in the coming year. —Ladies; gentlemen; those otherwise designated by preference or design: I give you—
More on which anon.
Posted 5125 days ago.
Yes, I know. I know. I don’t know. I’m working on it. I know. I’ll let you know.
In the meanwhile, here’s the City of Roses its own dam’ self, out on the town:
Posted 5170 days ago.
Good morning, good evening, whatever greeting’s appropriate to whatever time it is wherever you find yourself to be as you’re reading this. I’m assuming most of you found your way here from Zoe Saadia’s joint, and you’ll while away a moment or three before wending off to John Zunski’s cabin; from pre-Columbian North America to post-hope Portland to the late, great ’80s and ’90s: quite a lot of hopping, and from the itinerary it’s just a couple of short legs of a long, strange, thoroughly enjoyable tour. —Don’t mind me; any of the regulars’ll tell you I get like this toward the middle of an episode, with the hair every which way and the eyes red and the empty bottles clanking underfoot. Trouble is, I’ve been in the middle of this particular episode for a couple of weeks too long already and I still don’t even know what the sticking point is so I’ll just be over here with the keyboard and the screen and the pieces of paper with the notes scrawled on both sides and the muttering and the occasional yelps and curses and don’t mind me. That’s best for all concerned.
Leave a comment! Right. Leave a comment on this post right here, today only, say hello, drop me an email address and I’ll send you a Smashwords code good for a copy of “Wake up…”, which is the collected edition of the first eleven episodes of City of Roses, which, well, is gonzo noirish urban fantasy set very firmly in Portland, Oregon, where sinister riverfront condo developments are fought by a sprawling tea-house constructed from scrap lumber and old windows, and ancient sea-gods retire to close-in Southeast apartments with lovely views, and Jo Maguire, a highly strung, underemployed telemarketer, meets Ysabel, a princess of unspecified pedigree. And, well, things happen. There’s sword fights, and a boar hunt in a shopping mall (after hours, of course). There’s this bit where a church gets besieged by ghost bicycles. There’s also sex and magic and witty banter, the important stuff, adventure, escapism, the ten thousand things, the one true only, you know: “a very English American adventure,” someone said, and some other folks have said it’s “just another Portland story,” it’s “utterly captivating,” and it’s “brilliant.”
Anyway: comment, email, coupon, download, read for yourself, do the right thing, support the troops, support the arts, read global, kick local, fight the power, stick it to whatever needs sticking and be sure to get a good night’s sleep and a hot breakfast in you before coming back to do it all again, okay?
—Like I said. Don’t mind me. Mumbling, yelps, curses, furious typing followed by even more furious deleting. Soon as I figure out what’s going on all hell’s gonna break loose.
Posted 5174 days ago.
It is with a rather neutral sense not of dismay nor anywhere near contentment much less joy but mostly a sort of “meh” that I announce that no. 16, “Plenty,” will not begin its online run as previously boasted on October 17th. It will instead be dealyed a week, to premiere Monday, October 24th. —Of course, no. 15 was delayed by a week, and anyway the break between nos. 15 and 16 was another of the really short ones (like between 12 and 13), so it’s not like I’m breaking a promise per se. It’s being kept. After its fashion.
While you’re waiting: I’ll take a moment once again to remind you of “Wake up…”. If you’ve read the first 11 chapters, you know what’s what; take a moment to let others know what you thought and what they’re missing by not following your lead, if you’re so inclined. (The requisite round-up: Amazon, CreateSpace, B&N, Smashwords, Lulu, LibraryThing, Goodreads, Shelfari.)
And then I’ve got to figure out what the cover for “Deliverance” ought to be. —Fifteen down, seven to go…
Posted 5212 days ago.
This is the theory… that anything that is art… is presumably about some certain thing, but is really always about something else, and it’s no good having one without the other, because if you just have the something it is boring and if you just have the something else it’s irritating.
Posted 5231 days ago.
There will be a brief delay before the final two parts of No. 15, “Frail,” are posted. —Further updates as they are made available.
Posted 5242 days ago.
Cheap Ass Fiction is in the middle of an ambitious Web Fiction Festival, posting excerpts, links, and interviews; in addition to such luminaries as Thaumaturgist, Joey Comeau, Greg X Graves, and M.E. Traylor, they went and got me to answer a few questions. So there’s that. —Meanwhile, I’m plummeting toward the earth at truly obscene rates of speed and I’m almost done finishing the knitting needles; as soon as I find myself some yarn, I’ll start knitting that parachute—
Posted 5253 days ago.
So: a bump in the road:
No. 15, “Frail,” will not begin its online run as previously boasted on August 22nd. It is instead being delayed a week, to premiere Monday, August 29th, and even then I gotta tell you I’m nervous, jittery, out of sorts. —Why? Oh, I could tell you why: life, mostly. And it took a while to figure out what this one was about. (I knew what had to happen, but that wasn’t of much use at all.) (Oh and yes what it’s ostensibly about is obvious enough, which makes the delay the more ironical, but that doesn’t help me figure out where to point this scene, or that exchange.)
You might have noticed the utter lack of Twitter numbers, if ever you noticed their presence. That’s usually a sign. (5,310 as of: now.) (Yes, the target is 15,000.) (And look! There’s the jitter, the nerves, and yonder the sorts from which I’ve been cast out.) —The snappish temper, the crabby growling, the clatter of keys followed by swallowed curses: these are all signs, too. (And oh, yes: the irony. In all its Morissettey glory.)
While waiting, you might consider letting others know about “Wake up…”, if you hadn’t already? (The requisite round-up: Amazon, CreateSpace, B&N, Smashwords, Lulu, LibraryThing, Goodreads, Shelfari.)
And just hope with me most fervently that “Plenty” will restore to us all the years that the locust hath eaten—
Posted 5264 days ago.
This is just to let you know I’ll be tabling once more at the Portland Zine Symposium (11th Annual): next weekend, Saturday 6th August – Sunday 7th, at Refuge in close-in Southeast: 116 SE Yamhill, between the bridges.
I’ll have chapbooks for nos. 1 – 14, snapshots and (some) buttons, maybe even a peek at no. 15, and of course a few physical copies of The Book Itself. —And roses; many roses. Do come say hi.
Posted 5279 days ago.
