If you’ll notice, I’ve installed two kooky word-count bars on the right there. Oh yeah, someone’s learning how to copy and paste code. I’ve been seeing these word-o-meters on fellow writer blogs and thought, that’s sort of awesome. It’s inspirational and gives anyone expecting your newest release some idea of when it’ll come out. But like most things, it takes me 1-2 years to get around to something because I’ll 1.) forget, 2.) forget, 3.) want to learn, start to look it up but notice the minimized word doc at the bottom of the screen and write instead, 4.) make the time but something happens, 5.) forget, 6.) stumble upon it as I close the computer.
I’m supposed to be eating lunch right now. Watching Sex and the City and eating lunch. But I figured I’d catch up on a few blogs first. And then I found the word-o-meter. And Hallelujah it was actually simple. This anti-techo was able to add a widget accurately without the mandatory five glasses of wine and a constant complaining to Batman. Poor Batman.
Anyway, as you’ll notice, I’ve started a new WIP that has no name. Just Current WIP. Which is strange for me because I’ll usually have some running contender in the back of my head. But no. I have no idea what this piece will be called because I have no idea what this piece is about. It was supposed to be a short story. We’re talking 7500 words or less. Then it morphed into a novella. THEN it took the reins and was like screw you writer, I’m pulling into novel-town. For real.
I thought I finished the first draft on Friday—even did a happy first draft dance—then heard a character talking. WTF? I knew I’d come back to it—because it still needed a lot of work and the ending was sort of open-ish. And maybe there’d be a second part to it… I don’t know. Okay, fine. Maybe it WASN’T the end of a first draft. I didn’t know because I DIDN’T KNOW WHERE THE HELL IT WAS GOING. And I still don’t. I’m on a rollercoaster over here, taking turns left and right and up and down and this happens and that happens and holy shit what am I writing?
I have no clue. But I love it.
It keeps going and going and this is the first time I have no idea how it’s going to end. When it’s going to end. Usually I start with the ending and work my way back. But this is different. It’s exciting and crazy and every day I go back and forth between, “I’m writing this for me. I will NOT publish this” and “I can’t wait to get this published!”
I even wrote a small blurb for it which I thought would be perfect for its novella stage. Want to read it? Remember, it’s evolved PAST the supposed ending. Okay, here we go. The first blurb which will have to be updated:
When Prava-native Josh meets Lunda-born Marie in an abandoned missile silo during the worst takeover since WWIII, the unlikely teenagers must depend on one another and the contents of a backpack left over from America’s golden era.
Lunda, the last hope for a civilized Province, is not something Josh intends to find, especially three hundred feet beneath the ground. Having lived in Prava, the country’s deadliest ghetto, has left him bitter and hardened and unprepared for Marie, an educated Politian’s daughter who is convinced survival is still possible. Armed with only two bullets, an old-world backpack, and enough food for a month, will thirty days be long enough to overcome their vast differences and find love at the end of the world?
BUT IT DOESN’T END THERE.
Anyway, check out the word-o-meter. When I have a name—if I get a name—I’ll be sure to update it. Happy February 18th!
