That’s a pretty big number. If your goal is 50,000, you’re plenty close. Why does it seem so far away?
I have a headache. I’ve been staring at three computer screens all day long, and I’m tired. And now I’m done whining.
So, I’m trying to write a novel that’s at least 50,000 words – that’s my criteria that separates a very long short story from a very short novel. I crossed 46,000 last night, but that’s not as intriguing a number as 45,300.
It’s a bittersweet number. It’s not the done, done, done of 50,000. Neither is it back in the halfway twenties. This number is up there in the over 90% done category, which is pretty cool.
I like the folks in my book: Penrose the sawdust man, Gavin the ten-year-old 4H kid, Shelburne the Magnificent, Henri Dassault, the suave and very sly fellow with a shadowy past, and La Roche, the brutish not-so-nice medieval sorcerer. I don’t wanna say goodbye to them just yet.
So, I’m hiding from finishing the book by writing this post. Yes, honey, I’m working… just not on the book.
As soon as it’s done, you’ll be among the first to know. Actually, you’re a writer, you know how it goes.
The first draft is not the book. The first draft is just the bones of the book. The second draft is the one that becomes the novel. That’s the one that goes to the editor, so that it can get turned into the third draft.
The third draft is the one that goes to the literary agents to get turned down.
Guess I better finish the book…