Tuesday, April 26, 2011

My portals of discovery

"A man's errors are his portals of discovery." - James Joyce

I've started closing out my manuscript when I end each writing session.  Before, I'd leave it open and, when I sat back down to write, just take right up again where I'd left off.  I find, though, that having the document open to page 1 and then scrolling through it--yes, I know the keystroke to go to the end directly, but I force myself to scroll--engages me in skimming over what I've already written, thus making my activity a little less prone to error.  Or, technically, it makes me more prone to catch the errors I've made, which unless I blog about my errors later is pretty much the same result.

Found one this morning, in fact.  A couple of days ago, I'd introduced an adept named Patrick (so named because "Humor Element #15" didn't sound right) to Crystal.  Patrick was wearing an orange robe.  He bragged to her about studying fire magic.  Last night, then, I'd discussed the colors associated with the elements of magic, and fire is red, not orange.  Ah, crap.  I suck.  It's an easy fix, but still, it shows to go ya that I'm just not as prefect as I think to like I am.

After my writing spell this morning, though, I was sitting in my library reading a book, and found this:

"Andrew Carr!  Andrew Carr!  It was an illusion, of course.  No one within three hundred miles of this place knew...."

Flip forward eight pages, and the same apparition that had saved Mr. Carr from sure death in a snow bank by calling to him by name says that she doesn't want to keep referring to him as stranger, and so he gives her his name for apparently the first time.

Oops.  Good to know, I guess, that other authors aren't prefect either.

I must point out, though...this wasn't just another author.  This is a Darkover novel...Marion Zimmer Bradley, herself.  On the Easter Island of great authors, there's a statue of her.  She stands together with such greats as Piers Anthony and Tolkien.  She didn't write fantasy fiction; she defined it.

And she wasn't perfect neither.

Well, I guess that puts my little mistakes--my portals of discovery--in decent company.  Till later, then!

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