Spring 2026: My WIP as a living, organic creature.

Here in Denver, we didn't get much of a winter. Seems like we went straight from autumn to spring with an occasional snow flurry to break the warm-weather monotony. 

I was hoping that by now, I'd be pulling the wraps off my Work-In-Process. The original plan was to have the first draft completed by last December. Before starting the manuscript, I'd put together a rough chapter outline, a list of characters, and several subplots. Even early in the writing I realized that this was going to be a big, sprawling saga, and sure enough, when I typed THE END to the first draft, the completed work topped 109K words! 

I began trimming the chapters but in condensing scenes, or cutting them out completely, I had to ask: does the story still hold together? Have I introduced new plot holes? Are the characters asking the right questions given how the background narrative has changed? 

In wrestling with the revisions, what came to mind was that my WIP exists in two distinct planes. The first is the manuscript on my computer, the physical record of what I've committed to so far.  The second is the story in my mind, where I conceptualize modules of plot and narrative, seeing them as components that react to one another with lives of their own. Each has its function, which is to develop the story.  But change one detail and those edits can ripple backwards and forwards through the narrative. My job as the author is to manage the process in way that molds the story into something whole and plausible.

I came to regard my WIP as a living, organic creature. The first obvious image is that of me throwing a switch and cackling, It's alive! It's alive! as my misbegotten construction twitches to life.

 

However, I don't see my WIP that way. Not to stretch the metaphor too much, but I compare my story to the little lemon tree in my house. Slowly, with care, it grows. Ultimately, the results to the attention I apply to my work will be a tale that readers should enjoy: a captivating, satisfying crime novel of consequences gone very wrong. 

I hoped to conclude this post with an insightful quote comparing the writing process to nurturing a living creature but I couldn't find one. And since I don't think on those lofty levels, I couldn't put one together that didn't sound cheesy. As to developments in my WIP, stay tuned. 

 

Autumn 2025

 It's that time of the year when we surround ourselves with witches, ghosts, and goblins. 

 

While these tropes serve as Halloween decorations, they do tap into our acknowledgement of the supernatural, of forces beyond our physical world that influence our lives. Belief in the supernatural developed into a key trait that allowed us humans to survive, that trait being our ability to control our surroundings, or rather, to exploit our environment to sidestep uncertainty and bring about favorable outcomes. Our ancestors would track the weather, animal migration, the position of the stars in an attempt to predict when to plant, when to hunt. They would study phenomenon to establish patterns and from those, make predictions. This led to the linking of seemingly unrelated events, such as reading the stars or animal entrails to determine when to marry, build temples, or embark on military campaigns. While today we would regard such methods of decision-making as superstitions, we still act upon superstitions to ensure success and avoid bad luck. For example, changing course when a black cat crosses your path. The reason is that way back when, people regarded cats as semi-enchanted creatures for their ability to sneak around, and as the color black became associated with bad tidings, then encountering a black cat surely meant that misfortune was in your immediate future.

 While we scoff at superstitions as irrational, we will hold dear to us certain notions in an attempt to forestall bad luck. How many of us wear "lucky socks" to bring victory to a favorite team? Or consult astrology? Or carry a talisman like a special coin or wear a piece of jewelry? An object that should we forget to bring, its absence will surely bring bad luck. At the very least, we justify these superstitions by telling ourselves, "It couldn't hurt."

A superstition of mine is a variation of "not counting my chickens before they hatch." What I try not to do is jinx myself by jumping the gun. When I was in the military, I wouldn't buy any special badge until I completed the related course. While many of my fellow students in Airborne school bought their jump wings and related paraphernalia like t-shirts, caps, etc., as soon as they could, I held off getting any such merchandise until I graduated. I did this to keep my parachutes from malfunctioning during training.

A personal challenge is to balance this superstition against another supernatural force, which is to manifest success by stating your intentions. At what point do I declare to the world what I intend to accomplish without the fear of fate putting a stick in my spokes?

Which brings me to my current works in progress.  I am working on two ambitious projects, one is a historical non-fiction, the other a crime novel. With my local writing peers, I've shared details but to the greater world on the interwebs, I'm keeping mum until both projects are closer to completion. In other words, stay tuned.

Until then, here are links to my recent posts on Type M For Murder.

In July, I interviewed a neighbor who's an avid reader of mysteries. 

In August, a reflection on strange occurrences and the circumstances regarding my sister's new memoir.

In September, how my morning fitness walk turned into an episode of getting judged.