Rain, which is currently called Rain of a Southern Sun, is progressing well, though slowly. I am finishing up the final rewrite on chapter 3 and am already very nearly done with the first serious rewrite of chapter 4.

Though I had hoped (planned, actually) to be finished with the final rewrite by the end of 2008, the likelihood of that happening appears remote. As I've mentioned before, I'm treating the writing of Rain (for short) as my second college. It's important to get it right, even if doing so means drawing out the process. The good news is I've finally found the tone of the story and, as a result, my rewrites have become very focused.

The downside of knowing the story better is that I'm rethinking the title of the story again. Naming the story is a proven important element to selling it. I figure I'll wait until the very end of these rewrites before I spend a lot of time nailing down the final title though.

If there's anything I've learned during this process it's that the story doesn't stop evolving until the last period of the last rewrite. Only then will I know all I need to know about the story to give it an appropriate and well-designed name.

Shameful admission time. For years, I have worn my lack of reading speed, focus and stamina as a punkish badge of honor. Like saying, look at how smart I am and I can't even read as fast as most 10-year-old girls.

It's time to announce that at nearly 41, I am finally improving my reading skill.

When I first started writing, I read that reading voraciously was an unalterable must. The formula was simple: the more you read, the better you write. Hand-in-hand with this truism, I read one must learn to read like a writer, to be conscious of the writing itself as one reads.

Being a natural-born writer, I have always read in that fashion; however, I have always done so at a turtle's pace. I envy those who can polish off a 400+ page book in a day. That's about 5-10 times faster than me.

The good news is for the first time in my life I finished two books in a calendar month. Chateau Beyond Time weighs in at around 270 pages and The Man Who Was Thursday, which is only 160 or so pages but was a tad more difficult than the average read since it was written in 1908.

Since deciding to focus on improving my reading skill I have also noticed a sharp rise in my ability to read for longer periods of time. I have always gotten tired after as little as twenty minutes of reading.

My focus has also increased. Again, I used to lose myself in daydreams whenever I would read. Now, I'm finding that I need to reread passages less often and my comprehension is, therefore, much improved.

I wish I would have honed my reading earlier on. How much more I could have achieved in school had I done so? At the very least, I could have achieved the same with much less effort.

In a recent critique -- chapter 2 of Rain, if it matters -- something very important was pointed out to me regarding point-of-view (POV).

Rain is written in third person. I felt I was keeping true to my POV and, technically, I was. However, another writer pointed out that I showed a tendency to sum up action with passages like: They spoke with the ease of old friends each morning from that day forward.

To this, I met my criticizer with a blank stare. I didn't see the problem. He explained that I was breaking POV. Not boldly, not outright, rather I was doing it subtly. In fact, he admitted, I was arguably not breaking POV, but I was cheating the reader in a POV-related way.

After everyone at the table had a go at explaining the subtle idea I was missing, something finally clicked.

What I was doing was changing my narrative distance. Everything else in the story is told very close in Mr. Salley's POV. By what amounts to synopsizing, using they, I was pulling back out of Mr. Salley's head and looking at the story from a detached position.

So, though I was still in third person, I had stepped to another podium, so to speak. This realization, really this understanding, lead to the newest complete rewrite. It proved to be the reason for a huge delay in finishing the novel; however, it was a welcome lesson.

The 24-hour writing contest that

Writers Weekly holds quarterly was held October 28th. They kept their word when they said the judging would end in a month-ish.

I received an email last Friday (113108) notifying me that I and about 20 others had won honorable mention. Initially, I didn't trust the subject line to match the contents of the email, but when I read the confirmation, I nodded and smiled.

This was my first entry and my first sort of win. I didn't get the monied recognition, but I was thrilled nonetheless. Maybe I should stop now while I'm batting 1000. I don't see that happening.

I shared the news with my family. My boys, who see me plan guitar and design websites and write endlessly and attend writing-related meetings probably saw the news as just another detail in my strange path. My wife, who knows how hard I work at it but who is far from excitable seemed pretty excited. More surprised because she's read more first and second drafts than finished pieces, but there was some excitement in there.

None of those closest to me gave me the charge I was looking for per se, so I did what any other proud man would do. I called my mom and she did not let me down. She squealed and said 'proud' and 'honey' a few times.

So now I have to decide what to do with the story. The rules specifically give permission to publish it however we please after the contest has been judged, so I guess I'll have some questions to ask at our next San Antonio Writers Guild meeting this Thursday.