"End."
Book 2 - 7.8.17, 9.44pm
New Words: 6102
Total Words: 93498
Page Count: 434
Reason for Stopping: End of draft.
Notes: The things this draft has seen me through...
I realized only belatedly that I started this book less than two months ago. My last day at my former job was May 12, and I opened a new document with "Chapter 1" at the top on May 13. Since then, I've changed jobs, started a new one, and ended up a relationship, the last of which, in a troubling bit of synchronicity, seems always to either occur during or spur the book-writing process. It was what kicked me headlong into Red Sky, Blue Earth and it was what hurled me over the cliff into The Sparrow. It's my hope that it doesn't become or hasn't become so embedded into the journey as to be, heaven-forbid, necessary. The heart can only take so much, and I'd prefer to keep it open for the joy that fills it whenever a draft is finished. As far as this draft, I'm overjoyed with it. It truly feels like I've assembled so many of the things I've learned how to do over the past 15+ years. I love these characters, and they feel full and real and fully realized here. And their threads have braided together, in my eyes, to make a complete and tightly-woven tapestry. There's precious little here that feels wasted or unaccounted-for. I'd worried about how the final Boom chapter here would exceed Book 1's Boom, and I think I nailed it on that count, though there are (more than) a few kinks to work out re the magic and choreography and all of that. I think here I managed to find that balance between planning and surprise, and when I'm able to sit in that sweet spot, magic happens. True, alchemical magic. Meaning leapt onto my back with regards to some of the new developments here. Before I send it off, though, I need to make another pass or two to at least wipe the crumbs from its mouth and fix its hair and tie its shoes. It's beautiful in the way newborn animals are beautiful. It should be afforded some time before it walks into someone else's inbox.
In the meantime, I have far too many back issues of the London Review of Books to catch up on.
New Words: 6102
Total Words: 93498
Page Count: 434
Reason for Stopping: End of draft.
Notes: The things this draft has seen me through...
I realized only belatedly that I started this book less than two months ago. My last day at my former job was May 12, and I opened a new document with "Chapter 1" at the top on May 13. Since then, I've changed jobs, started a new one, and ended up a relationship, the last of which, in a troubling bit of synchronicity, seems always to either occur during or spur the book-writing process. It was what kicked me headlong into Red Sky, Blue Earth and it was what hurled me over the cliff into The Sparrow. It's my hope that it doesn't become or hasn't become so embedded into the journey as to be, heaven-forbid, necessary. The heart can only take so much, and I'd prefer to keep it open for the joy that fills it whenever a draft is finished. As far as this draft, I'm overjoyed with it. It truly feels like I've assembled so many of the things I've learned how to do over the past 15+ years. I love these characters, and they feel full and real and fully realized here. And their threads have braided together, in my eyes, to make a complete and tightly-woven tapestry. There's precious little here that feels wasted or unaccounted-for. I'd worried about how the final Boom chapter here would exceed Book 1's Boom, and I think I nailed it on that count, though there are (more than) a few kinks to work out re the magic and choreography and all of that. I think here I managed to find that balance between planning and surprise, and when I'm able to sit in that sweet spot, magic happens. True, alchemical magic. Meaning leapt onto my back with regards to some of the new developments here. Before I send it off, though, I need to make another pass or two to at least wipe the crumbs from its mouth and fix its hair and tie its shoes. It's beautiful in the way newborn animals are beautiful. It should be afforded some time before it walks into someone else's inbox.
In the meantime, I have far too many back issues of the London Review of Books to catch up on.