I may have "written the last line" two weeks ago, but that in way means I was finished with this project. The idea was always that in my thirteen week time limit I would complete three drafts: a first/rough draft (FMD), a working draft (WkStD), and a readable draft (no clever acronym on my harddrive).
After thirteen weeks of what seems like non-stop work, I finally have something I feel like I can show people (metaphorically speaking) and say "why, yes, I actually have done something with my life." Doing something with my life is, of course, why I went on this crazy, obsessed, compulsive, waking-up-at-six-fucking-a-m, summer-long novel-writing adventure. Not that I'm ready to die now or anything, but should I get a repeat deathly illness, maybe I won't have so much to regret.
So what does one do when they edit? Well, in my case, it was a lot of writing. So much for that last post, eh? I still consider that line the "last," but I'm sure there will be a lot more writing for this book in my future.
So... Final Stats for The Escaterra Summer Project:
440 pages; ~118,000 words
~40 pages/week (written)
~10,700 words/week (written
~37 pages/day (edited)
~9,800 words.day (edited)
So there's that. This is just the beginning really. I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please comment. I'll definitely (eventually) respond.
Thank you, you five loyal readers all of whom I know, who have supported me for the past three months and a week. I love you dearly, and I'll keep you updated, so keep reading!
Monday, August 15, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
Week Eleven: The Last Line
I wanted to finish last night, but somewhere around midnight I realized that the scene I'd saved for last was far too important to write while half-sleep and drooling on my keyboard (it was a long weekend). So, this morning, I nearly jumped out of bed at 6am, and only stopped on my way to my laptop for my contacts and a cuppa coffee - technically, I went to my computer before either of those things to try my hand at getting Pottermore early access (I was successful), but that's besides the point.
My mind's been playing tricks on me for the last several days as I've been getting close to this moment. It feels like I've slowed down and everything else has sped up. I wanted desperately to get here and also desperately never to get here. I don't know what my life is going to be like without this story kicking around in my brain needing to be written.
I started world-building a very different Escaterra from the one it is now when I was 13 years old. In late June of 2003, I felt the breath-taking end of my childhood when I came home from babysitting to find my mother in tears after receiving a phone call that my grandmother, to whom I was utterly devoted, had passed away. I flew with mom to Seattle - something I was supposed to do by myself only a few short weeks later for my annual visit to my grandmother - to help her arrange the memorial service and pack up her apartment.
Depression came easily to me in the months that followed; it a condition that runs rampant in my father's family tree, and I was no beauty, often plagued by barbs and insults from classmates about my looks and teacher's pet nature. Creating my world of fantasy was an adventurous escape, and that's what I needed most: something to make me feel alive and excited again. I eventually received the first bit of help for my depression when I was 14 at a summer camp that I will forever credit with saving my life. But long before that July day when campers and camp counselors supported me through my worst, I created my own light at the end of the tunnel - something sufferers of depression must do, but too often fail at.
As I've grown in maturity of age and writing, Escaterra has changed, my characters have changed, but what it means to me never has. Never will. I can only hope and pray and fight for the chance that one day it will mean even a little something to someone else.
Today's post is not one for weekly stats or goals or summary. I just wanted to share a little of me with you. And I'll end with the Last Line of the scene I finished this morning: "Nico didn't hesitate."
From here on, neither will I.
My mind's been playing tricks on me for the last several days as I've been getting close to this moment. It feels like I've slowed down and everything else has sped up. I wanted desperately to get here and also desperately never to get here. I don't know what my life is going to be like without this story kicking around in my brain needing to be written.
I started world-building a very different Escaterra from the one it is now when I was 13 years old. In late June of 2003, I felt the breath-taking end of my childhood when I came home from babysitting to find my mother in tears after receiving a phone call that my grandmother, to whom I was utterly devoted, had passed away. I flew with mom to Seattle - something I was supposed to do by myself only a few short weeks later for my annual visit to my grandmother - to help her arrange the memorial service and pack up her apartment.
Depression came easily to me in the months that followed; it a condition that runs rampant in my father's family tree, and I was no beauty, often plagued by barbs and insults from classmates about my looks and teacher's pet nature. Creating my world of fantasy was an adventurous escape, and that's what I needed most: something to make me feel alive and excited again. I eventually received the first bit of help for my depression when I was 14 at a summer camp that I will forever credit with saving my life. But long before that July day when campers and camp counselors supported me through my worst, I created my own light at the end of the tunnel - something sufferers of depression must do, but too often fail at.
As I've grown in maturity of age and writing, Escaterra has changed, my characters have changed, but what it means to me never has. Never will. I can only hope and pray and fight for the chance that one day it will mean even a little something to someone else.
Today's post is not one for weekly stats or goals or summary. I just wanted to share a little of me with you. And I'll end with the Last Line of the scene I finished this morning: "Nico didn't hesitate."
From here on, neither will I.
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