Fiction check
So I'm 8000 words into the science fiction. That marks it close to ten percent of the way through for a novel, and a fifth the way through for a novella.
I honestly don't know how long it going to be. But since there's a possible market in either form (I'm looking at you, Apex), I'm not worried about it. I'm simply writing the story as it tells itself.
It's going well, but its tough. Some of it's the genre: I've never written science fiction as anything more than a short story, and never anything hard sci-fi. It's always towing the line between giving your reader enough information to understand the science and avoiding reading like a non-fiction book. The world-building too, is more of a challenge. There may have been magic in a fantasy novel, but at least there were grass, trees, sun, and gravity. The world of the science-fiction is cold, dark, and weightless. Some of it is the narrative voice. I'm having trouble pinning it down, a rarity for me.
I almost feel like I'm sculpting this story. That its like a block of stone, and I'm having to break free the story, that there are parts of it that I have no clue of until I crack it open. And even then I may only see a hint of it, and I have to continue on another part until more of the story breaks free. And when it does, I may have to go back and change parts of it.
We'll see what happens and if my optimism holds. For the moment, I'm happy with it.
I honestly don't know how long it going to be. But since there's a possible market in either form (I'm looking at you, Apex), I'm not worried about it. I'm simply writing the story as it tells itself.
It's going well, but its tough. Some of it's the genre: I've never written science fiction as anything more than a short story, and never anything hard sci-fi. It's always towing the line between giving your reader enough information to understand the science and avoiding reading like a non-fiction book. The world-building too, is more of a challenge. There may have been magic in a fantasy novel, but at least there were grass, trees, sun, and gravity. The world of the science-fiction is cold, dark, and weightless. Some of it is the narrative voice. I'm having trouble pinning it down, a rarity for me.
I almost feel like I'm sculpting this story. That its like a block of stone, and I'm having to break free the story, that there are parts of it that I have no clue of until I crack it open. And even then I may only see a hint of it, and I have to continue on another part until more of the story breaks free. And when it does, I may have to go back and change parts of it.
We'll see what happens and if my optimism holds. For the moment, I'm happy with it.