And depending on my authorly mood, I either love them or hate them. And I mean really hate them (i.e. tossing them out a plate glass window and running them gleefully over with a John Deere lawnmower a couple dozen times.)
Perhaps, I should explain.
What I’m talking about are those chapters every successful novel needs to set up the action and the angst. Like a plane needs to taxi down a runway either before taking off with a squeal of delight or after landing with a squeal of terror, every story needs that sturdy, no-frills flatness of sun-baked concrete.
Chapter Three in The Hushing Days is one of such taxiing.
It’s a frustrating stretch for a writer to work through who wants nothing more than to get the story over and done with already.
Editing these chapters requires the same patience and skill as managing the guts and glory sections.
I know this.
Somebody needs to hide my John Deere.