Since the 4th of July I have been working on a novel that I was originally going to make into a blog series over time but found that with the progression of the story’s first chapter it wouldn’t work. My arcs I planned wouldn’t handle the story itself. So I reworked it into my first novel. My plans for it in the future hang in the balance of whether or not I can work a cliff hanger for the ending of this first one then I’ll be able to continue it with the main three characters. A continuing saga but each book would be from each characters perspective. We shall see.
My progress since the forth is I’m halfway through chapter two. Three more scenes and a little over 3,000 words to go. I’m not sure what to expect, and I’m not sure how good this rough draft is turning out to be. I refuse to read more than the last paragraph to remind me where I left off before continuing. With each scene I get ideas for more scenes and have to open up Scrivener and jot them down. Hoping to place them somewhere in the chapters before calling the rough draft done. How will I even know the book is finished? What if I get the book half done or even three-quarters done and decide to scrap it? Would I dare even scrap something that I’ve been pouring over for hours and stained with my tears and sweat? Daily questions of doubt rise up when I stop typing. Then don’t stop typing, keep those words flowing. It’ll make sense eventually. THAT is my brain hyped up on coffee, and in fear of having withdrawals from not writing.
I sort of wish I had more written than what feels like a measly 11,000 plus words compared to the amount I’ll be doing in total in hopes when I get the courage up to edit, and when I’m done cutting, shuffling, cutting some more, rewording, cutting even more and correcting grammar, spelling mistakes that I will end up with the wanted 80,000 or so words for it. Progress. A few steps here, a few steps there and eventually some day I’ll sit back, sigh a relief and cry because all of the words I just typed will be altered. For the good of the reader and for the good of the book. My inner writer reminds me.
So with today’s marathon I have accomplished only half a chapter and when looking at it from standing behind my chair it feels good. From sitting in my chair behind the keyboard I promise myself to write a larger word count in my next sprint.