Day 7: Housebound
Words written: 4, 093
Pop Tarts eaten: 0
Popcorn popped: 1 bag
Books read: 3 chapters of Ira Levin's The Stepford Wives and then the last two chapters to see if my hunch was correct and she would become one of them.
I didn't leave the property today, partially because it was overcast with rain pending. I stayed inside and did the morning writing in long hand. It takes about two and a half hours to write about 3,500 words by hand, and then another two hours to transcribe it to my online writing place and more time to fill in the remaining words. Nothing too odd happened in the writing, no sudden characters developing, and maybe the best thing that came of it was this idea of adding in continual lists---items you can use for hanging, ways to drown--all morbid stuff, but I can't seem to figure out what it is that she's searching for or wants. The scenes start to come together a little bit. A guy showed up again who was in an earlier scene--a detective who might be a love interest if one proves necessary, but what I need to do tomorrow or Sunday is print out the words from this week (27,000 so far) and add them to the pages I brought with me and see what pieces hang together--what threads are connected and which need to be cut. I made a list today of all the characters and ideas running through it and there are few that are loose and unnecessary. I'm scared to go back to my words from November, because I think I'll discover that much of it is unusable. There's a whole subplot I spent time about her being in community theater, for example, and then these other scenes about her sister's baby, but I don't think they'll make it.
Mostly, I'm nervous that this is a colossal waste of time, I'll get to the end of this with 90,000 words of a scrambled mess. I need to work harder at creating scenes, because I'm doing so much over-generalization--telling about how she feels about death or how they identify donors--it's not grounded in anything concrete.
.
Pop Tarts eaten: 0
Popcorn popped: 1 bag
Books read: 3 chapters of Ira Levin's The Stepford Wives and then the last two chapters to see if my hunch was correct and she would become one of them.
I didn't leave the property today, partially because it was overcast with rain pending. I stayed inside and did the morning writing in long hand. It takes about two and a half hours to write about 3,500 words by hand, and then another two hours to transcribe it to my online writing place and more time to fill in the remaining words. Nothing too odd happened in the writing, no sudden characters developing, and maybe the best thing that came of it was this idea of adding in continual lists---items you can use for hanging, ways to drown--all morbid stuff, but I can't seem to figure out what it is that she's searching for or wants. The scenes start to come together a little bit. A guy showed up again who was in an earlier scene--a detective who might be a love interest if one proves necessary, but what I need to do tomorrow or Sunday is print out the words from this week (27,000 so far) and add them to the pages I brought with me and see what pieces hang together--what threads are connected and which need to be cut. I made a list today of all the characters and ideas running through it and there are few that are loose and unnecessary. I'm scared to go back to my words from November, because I think I'll discover that much of it is unusable. There's a whole subplot I spent time about her being in community theater, for example, and then these other scenes about her sister's baby, but I don't think they'll make it.
Mostly, I'm nervous that this is a colossal waste of time, I'll get to the end of this with 90,000 words of a scrambled mess. I need to work harder at creating scenes, because I'm doing so much over-generalization--telling about how she feels about death or how they identify donors--it's not grounded in anything concrete.
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| These are some of my housemates. All good people, all the time. |
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