|Nose to the Grindstone
||[Oct. 23rd, 2008|12:18 am]
|[||Tags|||||the writing life||]|
|||||Mendelssohn's big violin concerto||]|
5145 words, just before midnight. I had 3500 when I left for the city about 2:30 pm...thought I'd have an easy 500 when I got home from choir tonight, but in the meantime, starting this morning, a plot bomb fell on me and exploded all over the inside of my head...throwing out backstory, future-story, complications...it's been wild. Hence the 1500+ words between 10:30, when I got home, and midnight.
I'm quitting now only because my hand is already swollen and stiff and I'm tired. (We had an extra-long choir rehearsal.)
From the point of writing excitement, I love plot bombs, but from the point of getting the first draft finished...when I feel like I'm running breathlessly towards a constantly receding end point...not as much.
But this is nifty stuff that I'm being handed...like why the king of Pargun would dress up like a fisherman and row over to Lyonya all by himself.
Staggers me, and other authors who's blogs I read, can write so much, think so much, create so much and yet still blog. The more I read about you all, the more I admire your works. One author just commented he found it slightly frustrating that he took so long to write a book and a reader could devour it in such a short time. Do you ever feel that way?
I also love the arrival of plot bombs! With my current teen romance project, it was the realization that the story focal point wasn't the two teenagers, but the girl redeeming her unethical parents.
I think plot bombs are the best part of writing a first draft.
Oh, plot bombs are a lot of fun. I'm just in a self-created crunch right now because I *thought* this book would be around 150,000 words, and thus I have only 60,000 more to write two months ago...and it's MUCH longer. I had forgotten that the way this story-universe works, I need to first-draft to 130% of the final to make the story jell.
And it did not help that I can't find my reference notebooks for the earlier books, written before I had a computer and thus not on any floppy in the house.
Go stand in the corner, she said firmly.
Hand hurts from writing so much. Hand also hurt from holding music.
Tired because...just wait until you've had 2.5 hours of rehearsal with our director. There is no downtime, no chat-time, nothing but relentless concentration on making the music better. It's both relaxing and exhausting for me. And it finished with having to sight-read (something I don't do well) as the *only* alto left that late, singing new music against five sopranos and about six men. And it was *high* for me. And I was having to stand right next to the director, who was playing the piano.