Bah. I just looked at my wordcount for yesterday (It was a new eBear record: a little over 6K, and the best I've ever done before was about 5) and my wordcount for the past seven days.
I am totally entitled to blow off Stratford Man for a few days while we put the YA thing to bed. Besides, I need to do some reading and research for Act V, and let my brain refill.
Boy, it's nice to be able to type "Act V."
I think it's time for some Stratford Man stats:
Prologue: 2.5 pages
Act I: 153 pages
First Chorus: 1.5 pages
Act II: 292 pages
Second Chorus: 3 pages
Act III: 228 pages
Third Chorus: 5 pages
Act IV: 235 pages
Fourth Chorus: 4.5 pages
Act V: ???
Counting notes, fronting material such as the author's note and two pages from Stubbes, and partial scenes tacked on to the end, the entire manuscript is 933 pages. And I feel very on target to bring it in around 1,100-1,200 pages. Or the ~300,000 words I estimated it might run, back when I was estimating in June or July. Before I revised my estimate downward to 250K or so.
I've been working on writing the novel (instead of researching or thinking-out) since June 10th, which is 122 days. I've averaged a little over seven pages a day. (More proof for my oft-repeated mantra: one or two pages a day is a novel in a year.)
Best day so far, 4,195 words. Worst day (and there were several) 0 words.
It really boggles my mind that my dead reckoning was that good when working on something this much larger than anything I've written before. I seem to have the gene for dead-reckoning of manuscript length, because I've been getting it about right since my second completed non-juvenilia novel, The Sea thy Mistress, which is an itty bitty little thing.
When I finish Stratford Man, I am buying a copy of Sim Zoo and playing stupid computer games for at least five days.
Right now, I'm going to go play Sim City instead. *g*
Went to the renfaire with the boy for an hour or so today. Tempest was playing, but they had the stage on an island in the middle of a lake, of all the silliness, so there was no dancing in front of the stage.
258 words on The Stratford Man today, most of which I like: it was just poking, because I'm officially on vacation while I do some research. And about 1750 on the YA thing, which is rapidly nearing draft status.
I am currently thinking the secret of YA is all in the exposition. It has to be transparent, fast, and interesting. Of course, this is probably the hardest thing in all of fiction to manage.
But I could be wrong.