Delete happy

I got so many questions about why I cut the lines I posted in a previous post. Those were just a few lines. Let me tell you...this book...boy, howdy! I suspect I've never cut a ms like I did with this one (except maybe goose girl). Everything I trimmed could easily be it's own book. Every pass, I was at that sucker with a hatchet. So many false starts. I like, nay, love, so much of what I cut. Let no one accuse me of not being willing to kill my darlings. I'm a murderous brute. I am cruel to those poor little lines. It's hard every time, but liking a line isn't reason enough to keep it for me. I have to consider pacing and story flow, importance to the character and her arc. I work hard, people. This is what I'm trying to say. And it's my job and I love it, and I don't deserve any special lauding for it. But there's no doubt, writing is hard work.

Caution: ARCs are out there now, spreading around. And there are SO many spoilers in this book. I warn all of you who do not like to have stories spoiled, do not read any reviews of this book before you've read it. Avoid them! I just know people are going to let a couple key items slip early. Those of you who tend to read the end of a book first, you freaky, freaky people, go about your business. But the rest of you, shut your eyes! You really don't want some things spoiled too early.

And dear reviewers, if I could make one humble request, please do not reveal in your review a couple key plot points that come to light about mid-way through the book or the eventual outcome. If you need to do a plot summary, please couch that information in code. I'd be ever so grateful.

I'll have a forest born section on my site soon. In the meantime, here's my first page. Those of you who have the river secrets US paperback will notice that it's nothing like what was originally the first chapter in the book. I mentioned the cutting?

Ma had six sons. The eldest boy was big like his father, the middle boys were middling. By the time Razo was born, all the family’s largeness must have been used up. The brothers called him runt and made him feel that word. He spent winter nights longing for a younger sibling, someone he could call runt, someone he could push and pinch.
    Ma was longing too, but for a girl to share thoughts with, a daughter cut and sewn from her own soul.
    When Razo was almost five, he and Ma both got their wish. The baby girl was born on a night so hot the wind panted and the summer moon blazed like the sun.
    “Rinna,” Ma named her.
    “A girl,” said the father.
    “Rinna-girl,” said Razo, peering over the side of the cot.
    The baby blinked huge, dark eyes and opened her mouth into a tiny circle. All desire to push and pinch hushed right out of Razo.
    He bent closer to her ear and whispered, “I’m going to teach you to climb trees.”