Words, words, words.
I'm sick and have a million paper cuts. Boo-hoo.
46,824 / 90,000
(52.0%)
I have yet to come out of the terrible middle stretch of a novel unscathed. Or to come out of the middle stretch of a novel scathed, for that matter. I usually end up flying into a brick wall at seventy words a minute and realizing that the novel is a huge embarrassing failure for *insert subjective reason here*.
And while that is a terribly unprofessional thing to mention in my livejournal, it is also unfortunately true. One of the nice things about short stories is that there is far less to slog through once I've determined that nothing good will come of anything I do and other such whiny emo nonsense.
On the plus side, I recognize this as a pattern in more or less everything I do, which means that once I type The End in this file and have a finished frankendraft, I'll wonder what took me so long.
Blah blah election, blah blah economy blah blah blah.
Three cats == Random walk disease vectors.
46,824 / 90,000
(52.0%)
I have yet to come out of the terrible middle stretch of a novel unscathed. Or to come out of the middle stretch of a novel scathed, for that matter. I usually end up flying into a brick wall at seventy words a minute and realizing that the novel is a huge embarrassing failure for *insert subjective reason here*.
And while that is a terribly unprofessional thing to mention in my livejournal, it is also unfortunately true. One of the nice things about short stories is that there is far less to slog through once I've determined that nothing good will come of anything I do and other such whiny emo nonsense.
On the plus side, I recognize this as a pattern in more or less everything I do, which means that once I type The End in this file and have a finished frankendraft, I'll wonder what took me so long.
Blah blah election, blah blah economy blah blah blah.
Three cats == Random walk disease vectors.