I can see the end. . .it is Near!
For the silly sci-fi chick lit story I started, I am now up to 56k words. Whooooo!!
I'm to the home stretch--I have the last few scenes to write, probably about another 6k words or so, and then I go back and revise.
God, how I shall revise.
Not too much, I don't want to bog myself down as I tend to do, but a lot of things need tweaking. Some of the lean needs to be fattened up and vice versa. There are some bits that are a little heavy for what is supposed to be a fairly light weekend-read (okay, maybe a long weekend read) and need injections of Teh Funneh.
My incredibly half-assed and super-secret plan was this: Finish the book by September and begin fishing for interest. I'm done with showing it to friends (although if anyone on here wants to read it, by all means let me know and provide an email address--I'll just send an excerpt, promise!) and with the idea of working my way up through the ranks of publishing by creating interest and buzz around my name by getting short stories published here and there. I can't write short stories. I write novellas or novels and that's the goddamn end of it. I will print four hundred copies of my query letter and mail them out if need be. If I get four hundred rejections I will print four hundred more and send them out. Then if I get four hundred more rejections I will probably reevaluate, because that will have been 800 rejections, and logic dictates I must be doing something wrong. But anyway, I am near the end and very excited!
DO YOU HEAR ME, UNIVERSE?
This is me, totally standing on a windswept tor in a hurricane (or more accurately, Tropical Storm Fay) shaking my fist at the heavens as sharp lightning cracks around me and the winds rip breath from my throat. I will not shrink from your blustery thunder, nor tremble in your icy gusts, FOR I HAVE BROUGHT MY GALOSHES AND DO NOT FEAR CATCHING COLD!
I'm to the home stretch--I have the last few scenes to write, probably about another 6k words or so, and then I go back and revise.
God, how I shall revise.
Not too much, I don't want to bog myself down as I tend to do, but a lot of things need tweaking. Some of the lean needs to be fattened up and vice versa. There are some bits that are a little heavy for what is supposed to be a fairly light weekend-read (okay, maybe a long weekend read) and need injections of Teh Funneh.
My incredibly half-assed and super-secret plan was this: Finish the book by September and begin fishing for interest. I'm done with showing it to friends (although if anyone on here wants to read it, by all means let me know and provide an email address--I'll just send an excerpt, promise!) and with the idea of working my way up through the ranks of publishing by creating interest and buzz around my name by getting short stories published here and there. I can't write short stories. I write novellas or novels and that's the goddamn end of it. I will print four hundred copies of my query letter and mail them out if need be. If I get four hundred rejections I will print four hundred more and send them out. Then if I get four hundred more rejections I will probably reevaluate, because that will have been 800 rejections, and logic dictates I must be doing something wrong. But anyway, I am near the end and very excited!
DO YOU HEAR ME, UNIVERSE?
This is me, totally standing on a windswept tor in a hurricane (or more accurately, Tropical Storm Fay) shaking my fist at the heavens as sharp lightning cracks around me and the winds rip breath from my throat. I will not shrink from your blustery thunder, nor tremble in your icy gusts, FOR I HAVE BROUGHT MY GALOSHES AND DO NOT FEAR CATCHING COLD!