Personally, although I'm not a very successful writer, the few times I became worried about my wc I rushed important points and etc. I would write what I needed and pare later. YMMV.
Jayne ,'The Train Job'
The Great Write Way, Act Three: Where's the gun?
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Well, my rough draft was 180k and I'm trying to hit 120k. I've done a lot of cutting in this revision so far, but I think I'll still come up long.
Just popping in to say, GO TEAM GUD!! Way to write, man! Kudos to you for sticking to it.
Thanks!
I'm done with 31 (for now) and onward to 32 where maybe I'll use a couple of snatches of dialogue from my rough draft. Maybe.
Unforeseen events conspired to minimize writing time, however I did manage to get 32 part way done. Hopefully, I will have more time this week to make some real progress.
I'm getting a concerned that the amount of plot and the speed of events is going to make the novel too shallow unless I use an unpublishable word count. OTOH, the odds of getting published aren't all that great so maybe I'll make a longer version anyhow after I make one of submittable length. OTOOH, the exercise of trimming and adding a bit more depth strategically to keep my word count low enough might make for the best result.
I want to get this rewrite done so I can see where I stand and make those strategic choices.
Also, since November is over with, we shall see if beta exchange person 1 will return as promised. I suspect not, but I could be surprised.
I still have some work to do on 32 to get it all cleaned up. Chapter 33 is progressing pretty well, it might run a bit long compared to the other chapters. I'm at 75k words, 45k word budget left, that suddenly seems very small.
I also need to do a critique. It's a short chapter so maybe I can knock it out tonight. I fear I'll get my chapter back from my beta exchange person before I've even looked at hers. There's never enough time.
waves sheepishly
Um. I'm teaching poetry at the moment, and as a result I wrote a poem. It's modelled on the structure of Michael Ondaatje's 'Sweet Like A Crow', and that's what the kids are writing this week. I wrote this to get them started, but I find I kind of like it, and didn't want to just throw it away. So here it is.
SWEET LIKE CRABAPPLES: A Poem
(with apologies to Michael Ondaatje)
Your voice sounds like ten hungry ducks
waddling after bread in Cawthorne Park;
Like a crowd of angry coal miners shouting at the cameras;
Like a bald wrestler declaiming Shakespearean soliloquies;
Like a bus full of tired children singing rude songs;
Like a ferret down your trousers;
Like a genial talk-show host in his declining years;
Like someone putting their muck in our dustbin
when our dustbin’s full;
Like a bus station forever being built and rebuilt;
Like the rustle of a paper bag of cola cubes and flying saucers;
Like a boy's kestrel being killed;
Like a big black bull following two screaming girls and a pregnant lady
out of a blackberry patch;
Like fast footsteps echoing in a dark arcade after a shop-window shatters;
Like a whole town driving down to Wembley, waving scarves
and singing songs;
Like a whole town driving back up North, crestfallen and quiet;
Like the muffled curses of two men stealing new flagstones before the cement sets;
Like a dog chasing a cat up a tree;
Like a cat chasing a dog down the street;
Like a slipper smashing down on a schoolboy’s bum;
Like a bookshop closing;
Like fireworks long months after Bonfire Night;
Like a knife sinking into home-made crabapple jelly, carrying a burden of breadcrumbs and butter;
Like an ice-cream van with a broken chime, selling
strawberry Mivvis and 99s;
Like a rich cricket commentator who never buys a round;
Like a million blood-bright poppies bobbing gently in the breeze;
Like the music at my grandmother’s funeral;
Like the clatter of a china cup settling back onto a saucer;
Like shopgirls dressed in Santa hats and tinsel, stumbling from pub to pub;
Like the hiss of fresh fish plunging into hot oil;
Like the Grimethorpe Colliery brass band still playing grimly on
long after the pit wheel stops turning at last.
Cool. That's bound to help them get going!