Revise, revise, revise. That is the mantra of editors. I’ve thought my novel was finished. It has been revised and revised.
A few weeks ago no one was prepared with a manuscript to read at our writers group. A number of prompts were tossed out to us. I chose “Have one of your characters tell you (the author) why they are upset with you.”
What came out was a minor character spewing forth all manner of complaints. Freddie said all I did was say he was a pest that caused trouble. He wanted me to know that he doesn’t like his home and family much. He has two little sisters and a baby brother and he has to take care of them. Their house so small he has to share a bed with his sisters.
No one cares about him. He’d rather spend time at Johnny’s house up the road. Johnny’s mother makes better stuff to eat too.
After listening to Freddie’s tirade, I feel he deserves more space and recognition in my novel.
Freddie has left me no choice. I must revise, yet again.
My blog has been neglected in the past few weeks since I posted on my September travels.
Two major items have occupied my time and thought.
Our church is celebrating its 300th anniversary. When the Dutch settlers followed Henry Hudson up the mighty Hudson River to Albany, they brought their Reformed Church with them from the Netherlands.
In Albany, New York, the Reformed Church was organized in 1642; in Kingston (also the first capital of New York) the church came into being in 1659; and in New Paltz worship began in 1683.
In Fishkill, New York, our church met to organize on October 16, 1716, Two events this past weekend capped our yearlong celebration. I had the honor of participating in both of them. On Saturday two performances of a radio play, originally broadcast in 1940 by DuPont’s Cavalcade of America, told the story of Enoch Crosby. Thought to be a Tory spy and jailed inside the church, General George Washington ordered he be allowed to escape in order to deliver false information to the British, which gave the colonies their victory and our freedom in Yorktown.
Sunday morning our choir outdid itself providing music for the regular church service. In the afternoon a banquet was held with many former pastors relating stories of their time serving our church.
A much less spiritual effort occupied me. I redecorated my bathroom. For a couple of weeks I’d contemplated whether or not paint the varnished vanity. How could I know if I’d like it white? My solution was to tape sheets of typing paper on the doors and drawers. Going into the bathroom after dark, I realized how much brighter it looked. I made my decision.
I bought the paint. Before getting out the brush, I needed to remove the doors and drawers and the handles on them. At first I thought I should have my son come and do that. But wait a minute! I have a screwdriver and my dad had taught me how to use it. Maybe I could do it myself. Yes.
On the front porch I spread newspapers over the outside table and using my son’s vibrating sander smoothed the wood and removed varnish so the paint would adhere better. I applied the first coat to the frame and while it dried the doors got their first coat. The frame had dried. It got its second coat. Meanwhile the doors dried. Whoops! I’d forgotten to do the drawers. More paint.
That evening with all the paint dry, I put the handles back on, but waited until Saturday morning to put the screws back in. I worried about getting the doors back on right, but that didn’t pose a problem.
My daughter hung the new shower curtain and Sunday on the way to the church dinner, I purchased new towels and rug.
All this to say I’d had a busy week with no time to write a blog.