Last Day to Vote in Phase 3

I want to believe tomorrow is not bothering me. Last night's restless sleep (for once, not attributable to cats - yea!) tells me differently. I had the feeling I was missing the deadline. Odd, since I voted several days ago. It was a little bit high school nightmarish. You know, you forgot your homework, but you're really 38 and high school has been over for a while? That kind of thing. I had a nightmare three years after I graduated that I had to take my master's degree oral exam the next day. Woke up in a cold sweat.
I don't want to spend tomorrow with a post-weeping headache. Those are rarely good days.
I finally compared the voting totals for the various phases. I'm no statistician (despite that last boring college class), but I was curious.
Seems aside from the first slam of 779 voters in phase one of the main contest, voters are, for the most part, holding steady around the 500 mark. I'm not even going to try to interpret the number of votes cast. That way lies madness for the math-challenged turtle.
Phase 2 saw a drop in participation in the main contest and an increase in the premise contest. That makes sense. Several people on the boards who were in the main contest and didn't advance have admitted to turning their attention to the premise contest now that every waking minute isn't spent thinking about whether they'll win the prize. That was a long sentence.
With one day left, all the procrastinators may show up in droves and add another couple hundred to the tallies. Polls close at 11 PM Central time today.
It has occurred to me that with the race so close, and only 10 spots available, we're playing a game of musical chairs. With only one vote separating 20 & 21 last phase, this could be interesting. I wonder if Jeff the Publisher has a contingency plan for multiple-ties.
I'm so glad I'm not running this contest. I would have eaten my own hair by now.

The Flip Side of Pride

Only the proud probably know this, but the flip side of pride is doubt. Self-doubt, to be specific.
This is important to know. Not so you can go around wigging out proud people. That would be fun, but hardly Christ-like.
No, it's important because everyone is plagued by self-doubt. Everyone.
Every time I hand my manuscript over to someone new, every time I post a comment on a message board, every time I write a post in this, my own blog, I struggle with how it will be perceived. When I reply to an email, I worry I'll be misunderstood.
Why? Because pride and doubt are the same thing: an intense focus on self.
Let this be a ray of hope to all you insecure folks out there. You, too, can appear just as proud as I do (if you wish). Here's how.
When I was young, I was told most people have no idea what they're doing most of the time. For this reason, when you walk into a room, act like you know what you're doing, and most folks will believe you do. Why? 'Cause they don't have a clue, either.
I cannot remember who told me this. It must have been someone I trusted.
This has been my SOP in new situations for most of my life. It works. When I was young, I was bossy, arrogant and proud when I did this. As I've matured and learned to inject a good dose of self-directed humor into situations, I am often perceived as confident and self-assured. This could not be further from the truth.
So, that's the secret. When you encounter the proud, bossy, arrogant person (or the calm, self-assured, in control person), realize - she's just as terrified as you are. She just hides it better.
I've focused a lot on pride this week. I wonder what God's trying to tell me.

Word Count

I can't remember if I've thought about this, talked about it or written about it. If I can't remember, I seriously doubt you can.
The subject of word count has come up several times during the contest. Star of Justice is one of the higher word count submissions. Naturally, I am quite interested in these discussions.
In single space/12 font, Star of Justice is 314 pages long. I always assumed that would be close to the final, published page count of the book. Books are smaller, but so is the font. I don't believe I've ever learned a conversion guide for computer type to printed type.
According to an MLS poster (and I have no reason to doubt him), it's actually closer to 500 pages. That's a lot of pages, even to me. No wonder people are hesitating.
I didn't have a page count in mind when I wrote. I just wrote until the story was finished. I covered all the bases, answered all the questions I meant to answer in this book, and called it done. It happened to be done at 166,000 words.
My writing process is to start with a quick sketch of the scene using emotional dialogue or action. My second sweep adds specific actions for each character that move the scene forward. Finally, I add sensory details to bring the action to sometimes delicious, occasionally disgusting life. I gained weight writing this book because many scenes revolve around eating, and I didn't want to be the only one left out.
Early on in the contest, a writer admitted his book was 150,000 words and Jeff the Publisher wanted him to cut it down to 120,000. That's 30,000 words. By my (albeit shaky) math and tiny solar calculator, that's over 100 pages.
Now, maybe that author's book can benefit from the cutting. He seemed at peace with the decision. Maybe that peace had to come after some wailing and gnashing of teeth.
I can't imagine cutting 100 pages from my book.
I have always expected to do some rewriting. I've done my best to prepare it for publication as is, but I learned yesterday, having one other writer look at something can be invaluable for spotting wasted words.
A few posters at MLS would tell me to suck it up and slash and burn, baby. My paraphrase. Boy howdy, though, would Star of Justice really be better without Horus and Callista, Master Thall and Tusk and Daria? Those are the people in the scenes most likely to get cut. I don't know if I like the idea of a book without them.
I don't want to borrow trouble. Maybe whatever publisher picks it up won't mind the word count. It just occurred to me I might want to prepare myself for the possibility.
I'll let you know when the wailing begins.

A Bit of A Ramble About...Pride

Pride is my top deadly sin. Gluttony and Sloth are tied for second place, but since I don't weigh 500 lbs and live unemployed in my parents' basement, I'll stick with Pride as number one.
Why pride? Allow me to quote George MacDonald from The Lost Princess:
"As she grew up, everybody about her did his best to convince her that she was Somebody; and the girl herself was so easily persuaded of it that she quite forgot that anybody had ever told her so, and took it for a fundamental, innate, primary, first-born, self-evident, necessary, and incontrovertible idea and principle that she was Somebody."
I could be either girl in that story. While I identify with Rosamund, I fear I resemble Agnes. I would hope I no longer walk her path.
Fortunately, God in His wisdom sent a thorn in my flesh in my 12th year of life. I learned there were other Somebodies in the world besides myself. I've been learning it one way or another ever since.
So, while pride is my problem, I have two advantages in my fight against it. One, I know it's my problem. Two, I don't like it.
I recently told a friend that my default state is cynical, perfectionistic, and critical to the point of cruelty. My family calls it "being honest." Normal people call it "being mean." I suspect the normals have the right of it.
Couple this default state with the Judgment aspect of my personality type according to Meiers-Briggs, and I can seem quite heartless and insufferably arrogant. I can do it without trying, actually. (Hmm. Does that sound proud?)
My point with this post is complicated. On the one hand, I want you my readers to know I struggle with this and to know that I know I struggle with this. On the other hand, I also want you to know that my prideful statements are rarely deliberate (unless they're funny. I have to go for the funny). It is a remnant of my fallen nature, something Christ will continue to draw out of me as long as I live.
My brother and I once got into an argument that went something like this:
"You are never wrong," he said.
"That's not true," I replied.
He rolled his eyes and left. It took me years to understand why. Turtle proud but not always bright.
I am not perfect. I can be mean, but I promise I don't do it on purpose anymore. My Jesus frowns on such behavior, and I try very hard to make Him proud of me.
I guess I'm saying it helps to read the turtle with a grain of salt, because I can't always tell when my words are hard to swallow.
You, my readers, have permission to call me out for bad behavior. It's one of my rules.

I Only Missed A Day

Huh. Feels like an eternity.
I was not exercising my sabbath rest. I've been ill. Not death's door, praise the Lord, but not the happiest camper, either. Fever finally broke. Today I got up, showered, and tried to stay awake.
I mostly succeeded.
I hope tomorrow will get better.
Drink your elderberry juice, children. The world is an ugly, germy place.