BACK IN THE LAND OF DESIDERATA

I'll let you in on a little secret.
I've never given up on my first novel, which has been referred to as a "FAIRY TALE SAGA".
My title was Desiderata (yes, from the poem by Max Ehrmann).
I know I should give up.
Everything I've read tells me to just tuck it away in never-never-publish-land, but...
I can't.
I love the characters, the story, the whole spiel.
Sigh.

I make excuses for my behavior.
Such as...it wasn't really my first novel, because there's that one 80s movie-inspired book I wrote in high school that nobody else--except for one friend who will keep her mouth shut or suffer the consequences--will ever read.
That is, unless my husband ever finds it (to use against me, because teasing me is SO MUCH FUN, or so I've been told by everyone else on the planet--because apparently I make funny faces when provoked).

I try to stay away.
I haven't even touched the thing in 14 months, but the characters keep urging me to come back.
And so I have...
First, it needs some editing...

Let's be honest here:  it requires a LOT of editing...

I've learned so much since then:
1) A sentence is followed by ONE space now, and NOT TWO. (How my high school teacher would shudder if she knew.)
2) I hate writing in past tense. (Which means I have to convert this whole book into present. Fun. Fun. Fun.)
3) Cutting out the unnecessary words really does help to pick up the pace.
4) I am obsessive-compulsive when it comes to projects. Not that I didn't suspect this before, but now it's a sure thing.

WHICH LEADS ME TO:
5) I'm never, never, never going to allow myself to take that "READING BREAK" I so richly deserve. Sigh.

But, Wesley is calling...

And I can't desert Maria and Anna in the dusty confines of my cabinet.
It just wouldn't be fair...

And so we begin again:

DESIDERATA

(or whatever I change the title to THIS time around) 

“The world is full of trickery…"

- Max Ehrmann

Maria sits reading in the blue with Anna standing at her side.

Chapter 1 – To Find the Perfect Girl

Wesley’s hands tremble as solutions percolate in glass flasks. Yellow, orange, and green fluids course through tubing and collect in glass beakers.

            Please be a match.

The collected samples of hair from the prince and the maiden in question curl together in a small cauldron upon the tripod. Wesley carefully adds the distilled concoctions, turns up the flame underneath, then steps back.

            The cauldron steams and gurgles in the sweltering laboratory. The experiment rises to a boil and Wesley’s heart races. His unruly hair falls into his eyes. He swipes the damp strands away before extinguishing the flame. The solution cools as sweat runs down his neck.

Please be red. Put an end to this.  

The fluid continues to bubble and churn, turning from purple to pink to...

 It’s going to be red! She’s the one! I am saved!

With a loud belch, the solution curdles, turns black, and stays that way.

Wesley drops his head in his hands. 
I better warn that sweet girl before Duncan gets a hold of her.

I feel the magic in this book, even if I have to rewrite it only for me.

And for those who don't approve of my revisiting the past,

the following sentiment is for you. Cheers!

Or, if that doesn't work, then be forewarned...