Aggghh.

Aggghh is my favorite word. I think it needs to be said when one is aghast at a situation, but so aghast that the word can't come to one's head. For this reason, I say 'aggghh.'

"Now, why are you so aghast?" You assed.

I find myself in the process of writing a novel. This novel is the weirdest thing I have ever written, and trust me, I know weird.

To begin with, I started this thing about three months after getting back into writing seriously. Which would make it late January. I don't know why I started it. I didn't have a plan. I didn't have an outline. And trust me, I know plans and outlines. I've got them coming out my ears. I was looking through my word processor for projects I had started a long time ago, and Vanheim popped out. In 2006 I wrote three chapters of it, and left it there, bleeding on the figurative literary backstreets. I do that with a lot of projects. Don't feel too bad for it.

Anyway, something in my head just clicked upon picking up the writing again, and I wrote like a madman for about three weeks, handwriting the damn thing, actually, because I think it helps for some reason. By the third week, I was finished with the first draft, and had already started the second draft. I had never finished a novel before, so a first draft, handwritten though it was, was something that made me very proud. It wasn't something that I could just tell my friends, though.

Drew: I just wrote a novel.
Isaac: Prove it.
Drew: It's handwritten, and I know you can't read my writing.
Isaac: You're full of shit, man.

So the real, real joy came when I finished the second draft. Because then it was typewritten and wasn't just a glorified sketch of events. The completion of the second draft came in early April. I printed up a copy and gave it to a friend, who's still reading it, or so he claims. Of course, if he put it down in disgust, I would understand completely, because second drafts are usually still far from good.

After that, contented with myself, I started working on a second novel, this one more traditional. That worked, until I met with an author friend of mine, who told me all kinds of cool new things, about getting agents, and getting published, and all of that stuff. In my haste, I went on to Predators & Editors, found the first agent with an email submission form, and sent a query letter I made up on the spot. Give me a break! I'm new at this! (And I wonder why I haven't heard back from them yet?)

In the first thirty seconds after I sent the query letter, I realized that the second draft was in nowhere near sendable condition. So I started working on the third draft. That phase ended late last week. I believe on a Thursday night. And while the third draft is by no means perfect, I don't think it sucks, either.

Now, why am I saying "Agggghhhh?" Well, though I think the quality of my writing is good, as I've mentioned before, the book is weird. And that's being polite. Psychotic is probably the more accurate term. I didn't work from an outline, and when I did start saying, 'Where do I want the stupid thing to go?', I was already around chapter 40. (Did I mention that the book has 106 chapters? Don't worry. In full manuscript form the average page length per chapter is 3. The stupid thing only has 73,000 words). To top the rambling, frenetic pace that the book attains, I liberally switched perspectives almost every chapter. Blame my upbringing. I don't know. I know that perspective changes can be awesome, but it's not something that first-time authors are usually advised to attempt. I took that advice and threw it out the window, because I know I can do it. I know the rules of perspective change- wait until a new chapter and keep it consistent, to name the main ones. Also, to add to my woes, there are many, many asides in it. There are whole chapters devoted to side stories. I love asides. If I could figure out the footnote function on my word processor, I would rock them so hard.

I always knew it would be called Vanheim, because the name Vanheim has been in my head since high school, when I first imagined the concept of this character. The problem with a book being called Vanheim is mostly brought to awareness when one realizes the main character's name is Timothy Vines. So, I guess you can blame a lot of the book's weirdness on me wanting to stay true to my high school self's concept of the book. (Did I mention there's plenty of stream of consciousness ranting in it?)

I guess now I should wrap this post up by telling you what my book is: It's a supernatural thriller with humorous and science fictional elements. You could probably add to that: Literary fiction with a commercial bent, apocalyptically religious mystery. Did I mention that two of the main characters are God and the Devil? And another main character is Judas Iscariot.

How many books about the end of the world have all that in them?

Did I mention that I fit as much swearing as I could into the stupid thing? Just because I could!

Oh, to finally sum up why I am aghast, it's because, though I'm proud of my novel, I have no idea how anyone would go about selling it. It might be my little orphan baby for a long, long time.