One week. 7 days, 5 hours, 20 minutes and some seconds. 173 hours.
I’ve got the novel-on-a-deadline jitters.
I did a whole fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants thing last November and that turned out alright. I had a vague idea, a few names, and squat for any long-term story arc. When I was done, I felt quite pleased (and a bit smug).
Now, I’ve got full characters and a semi-coherent outline for where I want the whole book to end up. Technically, I should be able to write from segments in the outline. But will that happen? Probably not. Why? Because, knowing myself like I do, I will decide forty pages in that X must die. And, then, after X dies it will cause a cascade of events that rolls me completely out of my plotted arc! At that point, the whole book will be up for grabs…
I don’t really worry about the roughly 1700 word count per day (1667, technically) as I can natter on without much of a problem. And usually after day 3 or 4, writing the novel becomes routine and the pages just flow by.
Am I anxious for it to start so the waiting can be done? Yes.
Will I lose sleep the night before Camp begins? Definitely.
Will I make it to the end? We’ll see…