The (Novel)ty Of It All

During the Las Vegas Raiders thrashing by the Indianapolis Colts I resumed reading this month's classic read, Jane Austen's Mansfield Park. I don't know if it's Austen's writing style, but there are times when I think the story is like Seinfeld -- much ado about nothing. As I read I'm always thinking of ways to simplify things by using less words to convey the same story.

One thing that shocked and saddened me is what I found on page 97...

From a writer's standpoint, fiction has its roots in reality. So to see a book originally published in 1814 perfectly documenting the hypergamy game was alive and well two centuries ago is quite telling on a modern society that believes otherwise.

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I thought I had finished the second draft of my romantic sci-fi novella "Her Name Is..." last night only to discover I've actually written a novel. It currently clocks in at 43k words, which in print would be a trade paperback book about 160 pages long. Apparently novellas don't sell and the manuscript in its current form is on the short side of a proper novel. 

I have no choice but to go bigger or start trimming it down to 35,000 words. I consulted Esmae about the matter this morning, and I've decided to write five new chapters that would supplement the story. Reducing the word count would likely make the overall story weaker, and we don't want that.

If I can get the manuscript up to 52k words with these revisions, I'll do another round of edits before I offer it to an editor as a noble sacrifice. Hopefully it's one that's armed with a machete and isn't afraid to use it. I don't want someone to fluff my ego. I want an editor that will tear it to shreds and then provide constructive feedback so I can do one last round of edits before I shop for an agent and then peddle the manuscript to independent publishers.