I wrote 3,392 words today. I’m feeling very proud of myself. Ichabod’s going really well. Just this week, I was mired in the middle of the middle. It felt like the plot was stalling–and maybe it was. But then I got through that, and now I can see the end in sight. I’m at 55,000 words right now, and where before I was thinking it might go up to about 100,000, now I’m thinking it might top off at 70,000 to 80,000. I know what happens–it’s just a question of how long it takes all of it to happen. Very exciting for me, though. No matter what happens with writing group reading it, I feel like this experiment has been a resounding success. It’s gotten me through the book in record time for something this long, and I actually have the entire plot in my head and on paper, which should make summarizing when I need to submit it a piece of cake.
Maybe the euphoria of having written well will fade, but it’s still nice to have it now. Yay me.
Yay you. After the catastrophe that was the Royal Tongue, I’m glad that I have finals next week, and therefore have an excuse not to be writing anything. I so don’t want to.