Today’s surprise knowledge bomb was about shagbark hickory. Nature is inspiring. *toddles off to write horrifying things*
And hey, it’s super cool that one can be as ancient as I am, be referred to by others as “a walking encyclopedia” (thanks, unlimited storage capacity for useless information!), and still, on a fairly regular basis, have “THAT’S A THING THAT EXISTS?” moments.
This chunk began with a scene in which I vomited forth an impressive amount of description—and it reads exactly like an exercise in vomiting description. So I had to look at every sentence. Does this detail lead to anything? Usually no. Can this detail lead to something? Mostly also no. I kept a single piece of fluff (for now) and mercilessly cut the rest for lack of relevance.
It feels anemic now, which suggests a) I barfed description on it to disguise its deficiency and b) this scene is too weak to carry the burden of the (currently unbeknownst to Heroine) plot-necessary discovery in it. I should probably combine the discovery with the body I added for her to trip over in the previous scene and delete this one entirely. Hmm. That one might then need to be moved to a different room of the castle in order to make sense, but that’s a change of two sentences. In fact, I’ll go do that… right… now.
And with a press of a button, we lose 700 words. EXHILARATING![efn_note]Reminder for the peanut gallery that this is 97% why I do these little rambles. Forcing myself to articulate the problem widens the spotlight beam so I can see possible paths to resolution, and there’s more accountability in assuring Future Reader I’ll make it right than in journaling for my eyes only. I break promises to myself multiple times a day, but I don’t knowingly promise anyone else things it will be impossible to deliver. Can I guarantee you won’t hate this book? NO! But I can guarantee you won’t hate it BECAUSE OF things I knew were garbage but left in it anyway. Minimum Viable Product University is not my alma mater.[/efn_note]
Yeah, I wasn’t clear on her purpose here. Snooping is on her to-do list, but she’s had a very long, very eventful day from which the adrenaline is wearing off, and all she’d want to do is a security sweep to find a safe nest for a couple hours. Casually picking up The Item during the course of that is doable, but there’s a bunch of stuff here that just doesn’t make sense for her to do under these circumstances. Solving the entire mystery right this second isn’t her priority, so this gets a hatchet job and a note for extra attention in Round 3.
Heroine recognizing when someone who was trying to kill her wanted to be underestimated inspired me in Hero’s ongoing adventures in character development. He introduces himself in a way that makes a really poor first impression. I’ve always known that claim was a lie—some lie is necessary because the truth is absolutely unbelievable—but I never before considered that this specific lie was a strategic choice to create a low opinion of him. He has a lifetime of experience successfully crafting fake identities to explain his oddities and blend in wherever he finds himself. All he knows about Heroine is that she’s a professional killer, which gives him a low opinion of her, so of course he’d sidle up to her with a “hello, my fellow bottom-feeders” approach.
Why yes, this is another example of Past Me giving me perfect material to work with.[efn_note]Why yes, this is another example of survivorship bias. If Past Me had made Hero play Heroine’s snooty superior, I likely could have wrung more out of that, as well. However, that presumptuous power dynamic would leave a bad taste in my mouth that I’d have a hard time overcoming to make a convincing romantic partner of him, so I’m happy with Past Me’s choice.[/efn_note]
Heroine found the place where the “anchor” Hero gave her to guide her to this place came from. Regular readers may recall that I recently figured out how to fill the placeholder I’d had with something representative of Hero’s character arc. Now I’ve found a way to link it to his mother so she has more personality. He’s the only one who speaks of her in this book, and I like him more when he recognizes there was more to her than “my mother.”
I’m still vaguely unsatisfied with something in this section. When she first arrives, it’s fine, and once they get on the road, it’s fine. There’s a mushy spot between, though. Too much exploration? Too much solitude? Both? Or is something still missing?[efn_note]Or is personal stress casting a pall over things that are actually fine? Would some quiet time and a decent night’s sleep improve my opinion? How about a billion dollars and a quick snort of powdered unicorn boogers, which I’m as likely to get as quiet and sleep? Brains are fun.[/efn_note] It’ll get figured out eventually, whether on my own or with editorial prodding, but the resistant parts sure do take some of the shine off the breakthroughs.