Finishing “Double Cross”: Writing Through Chaos in Tangier

Early morning in Tangier as I started the last chapter in Double Cross.

An amazing thing happened today; relatively speaking, I finished Double Cross, the second book in my Russell Stokes series, A Stokes Case Novel. That’s right, time for a good old pat on the back while I hear the saws in the distance, hammering, and whatever else this blasted city of Tangier feels the need to throw at me during this writing escapade.

Trust me, it was one. I started back in mid-September, intending to be done one way or another by November 6. This might seem like an arbitrary date, but I also occasionally play a travel vlogger, and frankly, I didn’t want to balance both when my fall and winter travels started. It’s one thing to work on a memoir like Forever Poland, as it’s a different type of writing, but fiction and travel vlogging are on different ends of my creative spectrum. The headspace it takes to deal with Russell and his life doesn’t translate at all to walking around city streets, exploring parks, churches, and cemeteries. I wish it did, but I need proper recovery after being in Russell’s world. 

Speaking of his world, the final numbers for Double Cross are 107,856 words for draft number one. We might lose a few thousand words once the edits are complete, or then again, we might gain a few. Every book I write is unique in that phase of the writing process. All told, though, this is my third-longest book written and the longest in ten years. Yes, ten years or is it eleven when I wrote Swimming with Angels and Going Home?

Initially, I thought I might finish Russell’s second story up last weekend, but after a pivotal scene, the final act of the book took longer than expected. It wasn’t from a lack of trying to tie things up, just sometimes the characters lead you in different directions, and you have to stay aligned with the story that is being told. 

In true Tangier, Morocco fashion this last week has been anything but easy. I had comments due for end-of-quarter grades, which again taps a different mindset, and the city itself wanted to rear its noisiest, most unruly self in months, by giving me three straight days of music outside my apartment window. I could have managed with a jazzy ambiance, but the bloody drummers and screeching singer straight from my wedding hell story in Asilah showed up again. This time, we had the echo effect in full force, with fireworks for added flair, and two hours of performing, followed by a one-hour DJ interlude, a few stories below my apartment window.

The glorified Thai Wok restaurant, which also poses as a pizza and shwarma destination, deemed it necessary to crank the bass after this show, forcing me to retreat to my back bedroom, close the doors and windows for a bit of sanity, all while I rushed to complete more of the story. I might have laughed it off, but the owners of the apartments above and below mine decided this was also the weekend and early week time to start their annual renovations. 

You try writing anything with intermittent hammering echoing through your writing cave. It’s not easy, and frankly, it's more draining than crafting the story itself. For whatever reason, any construction has to take place on Saturday from morning into the evening. There was no reprieve. And if it’s a holiday, don’t worry, there seems to be even more noise and construction to contend with. 

Even now, as I compose this piece, the bastard hammering away, on a Moroccan holiday no less, could give two hoots at the creative juices I’ve attempted to spew and share. 
Sunday was more of the same, but this time we replaced the wedding horror music with dance music that had no business being played at any time of day, let alone an outside venue. I practically prayed for more hammering to mask the sounds, but alas, the construction detail only showed for the morning hours before the restaurant had even opened. 

Fast forward to the last three days, and my internet connection has been spotty at best. Currently, it’s not even connecting because Orange has decided to perform maintenance again, just as they did in June, when I didn’t have working service for three weeks. If my memory serves, they claimed it was from the Spanish power outage, but news flash: is Morocco part of the same power grid, or do we just want to blame vacation time and shoddy service? I lean towards the service side of things, especially since the credit they gave me was never actually applied, and they simply collected payment as though nothing had happened. 

I would wave to the Orange sales center directly across the street to expedite things. Still, if it’s anything like June, the unhelpful sales clerk will direct me to call customer service, which refuses to put English speakers on the line because it hurts their customer service ratings. No joke. I wonder if they are up and running or if it’s just my building suffering through the dark void of no internet. 

That put a hiccup on looking up things to finish the novel, but again, we persevered. To celebrate this monumental accomplishment, it’s time for a proper rest, and I’ll get back to it early next week. In the meantime, if you haven’t checked out Rusty Star, the first book in this series, it’s out and waiting for your eyes only. Double Cross will join the fray in the spring. 

Till next update, have a good one.

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Drumming that I tried to write through

(True to form, the internet connection delayed this posting. We don’t want things to be to easy, do we?)

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