This is to be sent to all my new subscribers with computer-generated usernames:
Hello and welcome to The Tally of Words!
I am genuinely thrilled to have you aboard and along for my little journey.
Before we proceed—one humble request:
Please, log into your account and update your profile with your first and last name (whether real or made-up), thus ensuring that you are not a robot (if you are not). While I do appreciate the avid interest my work has recently evoked within the Artificial Intelligence community, and do not wish to discriminate my AI readers, knowing the human-to-robot ratio of my fans would aid me tremendously in finding a writing voice for my audience.
As much as I am reluctant to turn this journal into something it was never intended to be, I have to admit that the reality does somewhat affect my otherwise happy world of fantasy, or—as my wife disaffectionately calls it—Laloland. This morning in Laloland was a tad hectic—which would not be unusual after sleeping over the alarm clock after yesterday’s prolonged alcohol-soaked hearty discussion of how to handle my situation—and yet a tad different, because there was a distinct physical adjustment to the routine.
My breakfast—as simple as it was, just a piece of lean baked pork—decided not to stay in. Jumped out literally while I was still chewing. Bon Appetite.
As much as I enjoy logging less food into my calorie-tracking app, deleting the whole entry seems to be a tad overkill.
Anyway, back to my regular stream of uncounsiounceness: half-way through the pivotal chapter of the book—the last chapter of Part II, The Things That Matter.
There shall be more of those accidents now, I gather. It is only a little over a week since I was diagnosed with cancer.
1. Opinion (e.g., ugly, beautiful)
2. Size (e.g., big, little)
3. Age (e.g., young, old)
4. Shape (e.g., square, round)
5. Color (e.g., black, yellow)
6. Origin (e.g., British, American)
7. Material (e.g., polyester, Styrofoam)
8. Purpose (e.g., swimming, as in a swimming pool, sewing, as in a sewing machine)
Four more scenes. Inching to the main stand-off. Why in the Void have I created so many characters who are in constant conflict with each other?
Unrelated note: just realized that Verra cannot see the sky over the Bridge Market from her washroom, so the passage of her noticing smoke when the corpse of the dog was burned has to go. It did not serve any real purpose, so I made the manuscript shorter by half-a-hundred words. What an achievement.
I am looking forward to the first revision to actually simmer the book down to a slimmer size, but I am rather sure it will never be reduced to paperback dimensions… oh, well.
As a reward for finishing the new scenes, treated myself with The Death of Dulgath by Michael J. Sullivan. Easily my favorite of the Riyria Chronicles. Still wish I’d read the Chronicles before the Revelations, in chronological order (I am weird that way), but it is too late, besides, The Death of Dulgath was not yet written then…
Chapter Twenty—Things Considered, Chased, and Tracked—is finally finished. It might be missing a scene (I am still undecided; I wanted Verra to Heed some of Dae’s things in his absence, but I felt like it would stall the progress of the story, so for now it will do).
Now, to the next chapter… sadly, someone has to die. About time. ☠
Quite a pathetic tally for the month of November. Some people write novels during that time, and all I managed to bang out is twelve thousand words. On the other hand, some people simply stop shaving and think that it will help their cause. Still puzzles me.
What is making me so slow, is the necessity to choreograph quite a few things (seemingly unconnected), happening at the same time with different characters in different places. Being chiefly a discovery writer does not make that easier. Nope. Quite the opposite.
It does, however, have some bright moments, especially when the important plot points suddenly start to fit together as snugly as though you were planning it to happen from the very beginning. Trust me, I did not. When it happens, it comes as a nice surprise to me. I love it when the story writes itself.
It just takes much more time…
One scene away from finishing the chapter. One short scene. Or two. I can do it.
Perhaps, if I stop editing myself as I go? Nah. Feels like I already established my method (I better have, in all the time I’ve spent on this thing), going to stick to what works.
And as for the length of the thing… well, I might end up somewhere between Gone With the Wind and War and Peace (see below). We shall see.
A.T.T. The blog got a facelift—to match the main site. Something is progressing somewhere.