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Revision Work and Pouting Dogs

The thing about deciding to completely chuck the middle book of a trilogy is that ripples are created. It isn't a matter of linking the third to the first with a few stitches. Instead, strands need to be teased out of that middle novel and woven into the both the first and the last. Timelines need a great deal of tinkering--and that alone affects which characters can be present and which events, how and when information is exchanged between locations, and the finalized maps. Subplots need to be cut or expedited.

And it seems most of the decisions and changes must be made in the middle of the first book. Which is, coincidentally, where I'm grappling with revisions.

The current pair of chapters are not in bad shape, truly, but each little tweak matters. I'm thinking tomorrow I'll list everything I'm trying to do in that chapter-pair. It feels like a huge amount of lifting for such short passages. On the other hand, isn't that a good thing?

As for the dogs, they are immensely bummed out by The Boy's absence. I cuddle and play with them, give them treats, and all sorts of stuff. But I'm not The Boy. And they remind me of it whenever I come home--a few happy jumps for The Mommy, then a longing look at the empty doorway behind me.

Gambit slept on my bed last night, his entire boxer-rotty body curled into a tight ball at my side. I awoke to that dog sitting up and staring at me, his nose almost touching my forehead, at about five in the morn. The bed was vibrating from the frantic wagging of his little nub tail. A moment after I opened my eyes, he licked my forehead, then curled up again and resumed snoring. I have no idea what that was all about.

Comments

( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
sartorias
Sep. 19th, 2013 05:08 am (UTC)
He was reassured.
blairmacg
Sep. 19th, 2013 03:25 pm (UTC)
:) Maybe that was it.

We had hours of thunderstorms, and though Ty Handsome cares so little about the flash-bang he'd go for a stroll in such weather, Gambit assumes every thunderclap is the Dog God shouting out, "DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"

Gambit spent the night curled under the covers at my feet.
sartorias
Sep. 19th, 2013 03:39 pm (UTC)
Yeah, my poor PTSD rescue is terrified--luckily we hear thunder maybe once every two or three years.
blairmacg
Sep. 20th, 2013 01:55 am (UTC)
Yep. Thunder and plastic bags are the only really big fears that still linger with Gambit. Dev's theory is that thunder is not only loud, but reverberates like a dog's growl, thus triggering the fear. That might also explain why Gambit refuses to walk past one of the air vents in the floor when the fan is on.
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )

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