There. Finally, some draft accomplished today.
1300 new words on Worldwired
, bringing me to page 22 of 30. Jenny just came up with a crazy-ass idea, which reminds me why I sign her paychecks. She may not be sane or cautious, but she hates to sit still, and that does keep a book interesting.
Next POV: Richard/Alan, Ghost In The Machine. But not, I think, today, Dr. Feynman.
Something tells me I'm unlikely to actually have this draft done by June 30th, since I'm averaging 1250 words a day so far, and I would need to do closer to 2200, because of missing about fifteen days' worth of May and June due to travel. But that's okay; I'm one-fourteenth done. Which somehow seems like much, much more than saying I have about 6250 words. *g*
Which is fine, really. June 30th isn't a hard deadline--it's a get-your-ass-in-gear-Bear goal. At least that thing is happening, that wonderful thing where I can feel the shape of the book coalescing in my brain and its developing a weight and a presence and an outline, and those things that mcurry
laugh like drains at me for when I try to describe them by drawing voluptuous curves in midair with my hands.
Well, dammit. Stories do have shapes. Which is why really serious hardcore rewriting can be so hard for me, because I can feel
the shape of a story in my head when I'm writing it, and it becomes an exercise in uncovering that shape, showing it to best advantage, finding the elephant in the stone and polishing it up. But rewriting a finished story (beyond adding, subtracting ,shining, polishing, taking new angles on it) is like grinding the statue down, mixing it with mortar, and shaping it into a camel.
And every book is different, and every book is about finding a different path, and feeling out a different shape.
And that's, you know. Cool. *g* Hard work. But cool.