OK, more writing contest scores back. The most variation I've ever had--an 87, a 77, and a (gulp) 55 (out of 100). This was an all-Regency contest, also judged by Regency writers, which I thought would be the best showcase for my kind of writing.

Turns out, NSM.

The person who gave me an 87 mentioned repeatedly that she just couldn't believe in a romance between an earl's niece and an innkeeper's son, and would I consider making him an officer and have the starcrossed aspect be from a family quarrel (at least I think that's what she said--I had trouble with her handwriting in spots)? The person who gave me a 77 thinks that the story should really begin when they're both back in England, and that the Peninsula section of the story is backstory (um, that would be 3/4 of the plot!). And the low scorer said it didn't really have a Regency feel, and that the storyline just didn't grab her, but she repeatedly praised my voice (fresh, well-written, strong characterization).

Live and learn. And I probably should've expected this. I've been describing the wip as a "Napoleonic War romance" rather than a Regency myself--I guess where I went wrong was expecting every other Regency writer to be as enthused about the concept as I am!

Susan, I have no clue how these contests work, but that's a very broad span, yes?

WIP: 35,000 words. 170 pages. Two weeks old today.

Why does this feel all milestone-ish?

Very broad span. But I think it may be that the low-scoring judge was using a different scale than the other two. She wrote her key on the scoresheet, saying that 5-6 equaled a C, 7-8 a B, etc. While that's logical, I think the others were doing more of a letter grade equivalent where a 7 was a C.

Anyway, I just talked to a friend who had an even wider variance than I did--and just missed finaling. We're going to get together later and compare notes on our feedback, see if any of the negatives ring a bell.

And I'm purely amazed at your pace on your wip--can you spare a little productivity this way? I've been having trouble getting back into the swing of things now that I'm over the worst of back spasm hell.

I'd love to, but I don't think this is productivity. This is me, midlife, scraped raw, and the story and the history I've been hiding and repressing because it bloody hurts so much.

So this is bleeding. It happens to be bleeding in the form of what I think is a kickass story, about loyalty and protectiveness and a few other big issues between human beings, but it's still my blood.

I doubt you want to bleed.

If I did, it wouldn't be the first time, but my tap's a little dry...I've just made it on to page 3.Seriously, if I had something better to do, I wouldn't, either.

Just finished Chapter 7. Head-on between Bree and the detective. total: 36,240 words. 177 pages.

Enough for the night.

I doubt you want to bleed.

I've already bled for this one, a bit. And probably will bleed some more along the way. While its connections to my actual life are a bit more tenuous, I've still had to open up a few wounds I didn't know were there to really find Anna's voice.

I'm not opposed to bleeding on GP, mind you; just that this aint a slow drip, it's a fucking Victoria Falls. 36,000 drops of blood in two weeks.

Sorry. I'm a skosh punch-drunk.

I'm proofing a novel in progress that hit it's eighth chapter and 36,000th word yesterday, after 1 week and 5 days. And she took the whole weekend off.

People like you and she amaze me. I only dream of writing that quickly or well.

Speed isn't a prerequisite to a novel - it's just that sometimes it happens that way. I wrote Plainsong in just under six weeks; I took that long just to write down impressions of the South of France and Greece, for And Then Put Out The Light.

You never know.