It's amazing what guilt can make you do. And accountability, of course. Another 890 words down today, making it a total of 1,760 words. I'm really getting the hang of this, aren't I?
The downer? The story seems to be going in ten different directions. My voice is going in many more. There are characters coming up all over the place, and while I think getting this first draft out might not be such a big issue, boy am I not looking forward to the rewrite that comes later.
But seeing as I don't have to worry about that for the next three months, I'm feeling pretty happy about my productivity.
I know several authors who've said time and again that their books began to form on their own after the first ten or twenty thousand words, so I'm not panicking yet. I'm going wherever my thoughts are taking me without judging their literary merit. I'm singularly focused on meeting word counts.
I haven't decided what I'm going to do for Thanksgiving. I don't have family around, and my boyfriend is currently on a whole other continent. I have invitations from several friends, but a part of me really just wants to be holed up in my room writing.
I'm talking twenty days off in December from all kinds of work and writing (including this novel), so maybe staying in on Thanksgiving isn't such a bad idea after all.
Writing (non-fiction too) is solely responsible for my lack of a social life. But at least I enjoy it.
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