Plans and plans

Barring a catastrophe — which I don’t expect, but who does? — I should be at the 50,000 mark by Friday. I had a fabulous writing day yesterday, with 2000 more words than I thought I’d write. (I wrote a total of 4000 words.) Then I will have met my Big Audacious Goal and made up for my failure at NaNo last year, when I had a meltdown during Trump’s election as one of the millions of American women who wished we’d had been given a trigger warning.

I’ll finish writing this draft until I run out at about 90,000-100,000 words. For those of you who have never written a novel, that’s not as big as you think. The average science fiction book is about 100,000 words and other genres around that.

I fully expect that, on reread, this first draft will be pretty messy with plot holes, poor word choice, and lack of description. I still struggle with how much description to put into a book. The irony is that I love writing descriptive passages, but all I know about the terrain around Elko, NV (where my protagonist is currently at) is what I see on the Internet. I’ve hit the Internet quite a bit in this writing run, and I suspect I will some more.

I will probably put Whose Hearts are Mountains (this work-in-progress) into a hibernation when I’m done so I can look at it with fresh eyes later. My writing will probably alternate between finishing Prodigies and finding an editor for the ever important first three chapters to be sent to agents and publishers. Then I will go through another cycle of sending to agents, hoping that I will be lucky this time.

Thanks, all, for reading.

BAG accomplished!

Big Audacious Goal of the Day accomplished:

4000 words written in about 5 hours (four hours if you subtract the interruptions).
Total: 40,315 words — 5 2000-word days for the win!

How accomplished:
1) Fireplace program on the projection screen
2) One cup of Kenya Nyeri
3) One cup of Phoenix Valley Oolong
4) Occasional visits by Girly-Girl and Snowy
5) Promised myself I would stop in 15 minutes if I couldn’t concentrate

Today’s plot points: A town of the dead, smash-and-grab shopping, and two feral children at a rest stop.

10,000 to go!
Love you all!

This morning: Reluctance to write

I’m not sure why I’m not motivated this morning. It’s bright and early (or at least early) in Maryville, MO; Girly-girl the deadpan calico cat sits next to me and purrs —

If a picture’s worth a thousand words, why do I write?

It’s a perfect day for writing: warm inside, rainy and misty outside. There Will Be Coffee Soon. I have all day to write —

At 5 AM, 4000 words (my weekend goal) is much too daunting.

How shall I deal with this?

1) Break the goal down into a couple parts — four blocks of 1000 seem workable.

2) Start writing for fifteen minutes and let myself quit if I’m still not into it.

3) Drink. The. Coffee. First. It’s Kenya Nyeri, home roasted, and sure to taste somewhere between a good solid cup of coffee and heaven in a cup.

4) Write a more fun part first. Actually, this beginning part is a good, dramatic part — it begins with the protagonist reading a journal left by the last survivor of a plague — but is the plague still contagious?

5) Alternatively, tackle the hardest part first. Right after this segment is a part I haven’t really conceived of first, and it’s kind of a transitional part. These are hard to write without sounding like a voiceover in a movie script: “As a matter of fact, my adventures were just beginning …”

6) Forgive myself if I don’t make the goal. I’m way ahead, as is expected from someone who loves personal challenges.

Talk to you later!

I’m still going — 3000 words today

I made it through my 3000 word goal, although I am seriously not feeling well today. (I also made it to work). The fun today was writing in a bit of urban shamanism:

The collective had offered me a place on the floor of the Commons building, which I took with gratitude. I suspected my days sleeping in a bed would be over, and I suspected that I would sleep in the cab of my truck after I left this place.

I laid out my bedroll, using my backpack as my pillow as always. The moment I laid down and closed my eyes, a voice behind me, low and gravelly, said, “Tina and I need to talk to you outside.” I turned around and saw some of the few white people from dinner, a man of about average height with long, wavy greying hair and goatee; and a diminutive blonde woman, all dimples.

“Okay,” I queried. “What’s the reason for the secret meeting?”

“You looked really freaked out back there. During dinner.” He raised his eyebrows, and I noted that he looked much like the Asian Boys in Duluth, only with stunning hair they wouldn’t have sported.

“Well, David talked to me about hearing voices in my head. I got uncomfortable.” The shorter woman shot me a sympathetic look.

“David’s not crazy,” the man shook his head. “Streetwise, like me, but not crazy. You might want to listen to him.”

I knew I should be taking these notes down in my head, or in my notebook. The collective had a tendency toward superstition – the tree that protected, the wise crazy person — but that wasn’t the story I looked for.

“So who are you?” I asked “And why are you here?”

“I’m Allan Chang, and I should tell you I’m a shaman so some of this makes sense. This is my partner, Celestine Eisner.” Celestine, who looked about twenty, waved in acknowledgment.

“A shaman. How does that fit into the collective?” Most self-identified shamans in the post-Industrial era did not come from a culture that believed in shamans, and the likelihood was that they used mysticism to compensate for being powerless.

“They think it’s strange, because they’re not used to Asians hearing spirits.” He grinned, a wolfish grin that for a moment made me believe in totems.

“So, what’s our business tonight?” I hoped it was a story of the Alvar, because I hadn’t gotten my quota for the day.

“We need to consult the subway oracle.” Oracles in subways? That was a new one to me; previous to this, I had thought the conjunction of fortune-telling and technology had been limited to tarot readings and Miss Cleo.

“And you need a ride?” I asked, realizing that my sleep time would be shortened.

“No. By we, I mean you need to consult the subway oracle.” Allan emphasized. “I can feel the agitation David is causing you.”

********
Incidentally, Allan and Celestine show up in a couple of earlier books. Celestine, it turns out, has something in common with the protagonist of this story.

Big Audacious Goal part 2

I told myself I wouldn’t post today until after I got my other 4000 words written for the weekend. It’s 10:40 AM Chicago time, and I’ve completed my word assignment. Yippee! Yahoo! Oh Boy! Time to rest!

As I mentioned yesterday, writing 4000 words was onerous. It felt like crawling down the street with three dead moose tied to my waist and the goal of reaching Pumpkin Center ten miles down the road. Without knee pads. And the moose has been dead for a while.

I don’t know why yesterday was so difficult — except that I had put up a psychological barrier of writing 1000 words a day more than I’d been writing. Today, I woke up knowing that I had written 4000 words the day before, so I didn’t feel the burden.

I am not writing any more today. As it is, I dream nothing but this book for the moment.

Thanks for following me.