I think I nailed it, or maybe I just nailed me

So, I've just written the end of the last chapter of Book of Days, the fifth Kinkaid Chronicle. Not the end of the book - there's an epilogue to go.

I made myself cry with it. Unusual. Not going to elaborate because I'm awaiting feedback, but I can say that putting myself into a beloved body and feeling it dying is not the easiest thing I've ever done, or written about.

As my friend Laura Anne Gilman once said about writing, "be true". I was true, and it hurts like hell. But I think it makes a good book.

Book of Days, winding down

I'm working on one of the bigger nastier confrontations toward the end of the fifth Kinkaid novel, Book of Days. There are two things being talked about in this conversation, two layers, two crimes of either deliberation or omission.

JP Kinkaid, second guitarist for the band Blacklight, is my narrator. He knows what one part of this is all about, but the second part, he's sans clue. And that means the reader gets to learn about it along with him, because this is first person, rather than omniscient third, and he can't share with you what he doesn't know. The fact that I know it means precisely squat.

Tricky. Very very tricky.

This post brought to you courtesy of a very tired writer.