pushing through
See, look, it's another picture of my face to help illustrate that this post is just a shorter version of the last post, and equally self-absorbed:
There are enormous holes still, but I surprised myself by writing through the end of act two and realizing that I didn't need four acts to tell my story. So I wrote up a quick short version of an act three conclusion and got to the end, that crazy bastard ending that scares me.
I actually wrote all the way to the end. I even color coded it (so many characters! ensemble madness!). And now I have ten days. Ten days to fill in those holes, get a synopsis together, write a minimum first five pages, bio and resume, and get shit in the mail. This is so poorly advised. I'm an idiot. A big ambitious idiot.
This weekend seven of us from Writing Group are spending right around two days at the beach in a couple of yurts Amy has arranged for us. A "Writer's Retreat." In all honesty I'm a little worried that the packed-in friends will be a little more hang-out than serious writing, and I'm reasonably focused on weekends as it is. (Plus, last time I went away on a "writer's retreat" was my five day sojourn to Sumas to see Dutch, and that resulted in almost exactly zero pages of progress. And there weren't six others excited about beaches and booze.) Anyway we'll see.
So anyway, I made some pretty intense progress in the last couple days, and no matter how good it feels, it's amazing how far I have left to go. Still, it's pretty frightening and exhilarating to write (even in super-rough outline form) the end of the story.
All I do is work and write, eat and sleep. I dream my story. There's nothing else for me to tell you here. One Day in the Future is plodding along. That's it.
There are enormous holes still, but I surprised myself by writing through the end of act two and realizing that I didn't need four acts to tell my story. So I wrote up a quick short version of an act three conclusion and got to the end, that crazy bastard ending that scares me.
I actually wrote all the way to the end. I even color coded it (so many characters! ensemble madness!). And now I have ten days. Ten days to fill in those holes, get a synopsis together, write a minimum first five pages, bio and resume, and get shit in the mail. This is so poorly advised. I'm an idiot. A big ambitious idiot.
This weekend seven of us from Writing Group are spending right around two days at the beach in a couple of yurts Amy has arranged for us. A "Writer's Retreat." In all honesty I'm a little worried that the packed-in friends will be a little more hang-out than serious writing, and I'm reasonably focused on weekends as it is. (Plus, last time I went away on a "writer's retreat" was my five day sojourn to Sumas to see Dutch, and that resulted in almost exactly zero pages of progress. And there weren't six others excited about beaches and booze.) Anyway we'll see.
So anyway, I made some pretty intense progress in the last couple days, and no matter how good it feels, it's amazing how far I have left to go. Still, it's pretty frightening and exhilarating to write (even in super-rough outline form) the end of the story.
All I do is work and write, eat and sleep. I dream my story. There's nothing else for me to tell you here. One Day in the Future is plodding along. That's it.