Well, as a famous sidekick once observed, I’m back.
After really screwing myself on my fall schedule (more on that anon. Yes, I know I said that already.) I am finally back in the study, where finishing my own novel is actually the hottest project in my queue. ‘Cause, yeah, back when I said I’d publish it next May, it seemed a totally attainable deadline. Meanwhile, I have (according to the word count thingy in Power Writer, my writing program) a little more than 88K words written. I know that number’s inflated; it includes a lot of planning and previous-draft material. A better gauge is that I am a bit more than halfway, in terms of distance my characters must travel, to the midpoint of the novel. If this one has four acts (and I think they do, but I also think the first and fourth acts are more in the stage-drama than the screenplay tradition: which is to say they’re meaty) then I am in the second half of act two.
What I know is that, if this book is going to press in May, I’ve got to finish it by early December. It’s going to be interesting.
The good news: this is not a first draft. I know the story. The bad news: the previous drafts are mostly not up to my current standard, and I’m writing every scene from scratch–and, in fact, most of the scenes I’m writing are wholly new.
During the golden period when all I did was work on my fiction-writing skills, I could produce about 7 pages per day. Now, of course, I’m also running a publishing house–and I believe I need to be producing at least 10.
“Nervous” is an understatement. In fact I’m waxing the cat right now.
Off I go, then. Wish me luck.