Well, even for all the screwing around with Evil Editor’s party, I got a decent amount done on Paladin. The prologue has now been converted to a full chapter. Chapter one is now chapter two. It has the edit done from the workshop and is in good shape, I hope. I’m always a little nervous when I make changes, as that is yet something else that needs to be looked at with a very discerning eye. However, hopefully this will be going through Barbara Rogan’s workshop. I will take it through the novels workshop at Forums America and then probably hire an editor to go over it. I still don’t know for sure I am getting in Barbara’s workshop, but one way or the other, PALADIN will get worked over before I go to Surrey or start submitting.
Over all, I am pleased with the new beginning, though the first chapter needs to be worked again and I need more detail in the fight scene. I’d really like to add a lot more detail everywhere as it seems sparse to me, but write tight is the mantra and I will already be way over the suggested word count. I had planned on dropping in scenes from the ghost’s pov periodically, but that will add even more pages and I need to be cutting.
I need to rewrite the next chapter and add a new chapter four, and then I am back on track.
My blogging visits are going to be cut down severely this week and for the foreseeable future. I have to get the first 100 pages whipped into shape by the end of May. Well, I have some people I owe critiques to, but screwing around will be cut back.
And the new beginning to chapter two of PALADIN.
Papa adored Mama, and normally he gave her whatever she desired. Mama didn’t ask for much, but when she did, he made it happen. He was resisting this time, however. They’d been arguing, discussing as Mama said, since the far rider stopped by with a message three weeks before.
That’s when her mother embarked on a frantic mission to make Gentyl’s skin velvet soft, with no blemish or scratch to mar it. A farmer’s daughter with perfect skin? If she hadn’t been the object of this unwanted attention, it would have been laughable.
Gentyl glanced up from the smoky gray kitten, purring loudly in her arms. She continued to stroke the silky fur and grabbed at a tiny paw from time to time as he batted at the braid draped across her shoulder. Kittens were almost the only animals allowed to trespass in her mother’s immaculate herb garden and even they were frequently shooed away if they started digging in the fresh dirt. Yet, there was Papa, with his large farmer boots, standing in the middle of a lush green mass, and Mama too busy arguing to notice the molested mint.