I Am a Genuine, Honest-to-Gosh Writer

I have finally grown comfortable enough with the possibility of rejection and with the growing body of words from my tap-tapping little fingers to confide that i am writing a novel. In fact, recent word count has me at 41,481 words. Many of them are deeply crappy words, certainly, but still words. Absolutely words, all mine.
I suppose I’m partly ok with sharing this because a) I am not going to tell you what it is about, I don’t do that, it’s too weird and what if I change it and b) I have finally been published enough times to feel confident that even if this particular novel never sells, I will continue to be published in some recognizable form that I can trot out at parties. So it’s fine to share.
Plus. I need some accountability here. One of the many problems with writing a novel that’s not actually under contract is that no one cares whether you write it or not except you. So you set your little goal, say 8 scenes a week for the month of October (just say) and then you write one in the first week and no one punishes you. No lashes, no scoldings, no nothing, just you, saying merrily and encouragingly to yourself “it’s ok, you can still do this! That just makes fifteen next week!” Not that that actually happens.
Well, ok, it happened. Last week. So, fifteen scenes this week. (Scenes are kind of a fun way to measure, because some are very short and some long, and I have a nice ever-changing outline of them that currently takes me right to the climax of the book, probably about two chapters from the end, so that I can see actual progress.)
I’ve done two. I’m partway through three. And here I go, with the goal of wrapping three and four in the next hour 45 (ah, ask not for whom the babysitter tolls, she tolls for me).
Fifteen this week. Hold me to it, will ya?

I thought I’d be blogging about pregnancy number three, but other than my usual fear of ham and odd appetite, I haven’t had much to say. Poor kid, neglected already. Actually I poke it a lot to make it move so I’ll feel better, since I’m prety much perennially convinved something has gone wrong and I’m just waiting for it to manifest itself in some way. Hard to quantify the fun, isn’t it?125 home michigan equity loanpayday 7 5 multi loandollar loan 5000 bad creditunsecured 5000 personal loanhome aa loans insurance car equityloan bad savings payday account creditadvance loan cash debteasy advance 20 cash loanloan adverse online credit uk securedagent loan california irvine$7000 loans100 financing bank fha loans homealberta bad loans creditallen sloanloan amanda miller estate realloans adelaide paydaypayments loan lump 401k sumloans 203k me Map


566 Responses to “I Am a Genuine, Honest-to-Gosh Writer”

  1. KJ says:

    Comment from Caryn at http://annamcginty.blogspot.com/
    blocked by the otherwise fabulous spamkarma:
    Congratulations! Isn’t novel-writing fun and so terribly painful? I love it.
    Two things motivated me to finish my first book: 1) 90% of all those who
    begin writing a book never finish it. I was determined to make the cut. 2)
    First books are supposed to be crappy. They’re rarely published. But the
    more you write, the better you’ll get. So I just told myself it was a
    practice book and I had permission to write a really bad book. It worked.
    And it is horrendous. But just knowing I’d written a whole book, and reading
    it over to see that I had grown so much as a writer in just that time,
    encouraged me, and I’ve just finished my fourth.

    Again, congrats and good luck!

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