It's been 25 days since my last
confession progress report.
In that time:
Words: 8923
thank God an editor will never see this: I’m "just"-ing this manuscript to death. I did an edit/replace for "just" and substituted "boogers." 87. EIGHTY-FRICKIN-SEVEN. But now, they'll really stand out when I'm writing draft two. O.O
words the universe will conspire to make me cut The monster inside me swirls in my chest, begging to burst free and have its way with them. I give in--just a little--a controlled explosion of persuasion, and I sing of sweet dreams and heavy eyelids, spinning the children into a collective, slack-jawed trance. Part of me recoils in horror, but it's amazing, what I can do.
random thoughtedness: The structure of this one is already getting away from me, so I've had to slow down and
focus. Gah. I hate doing things slowly. (Well, except for that one thing.) I wrote the majority of
Elisa's Belly in four months, and I was hoping for a repeat. Alas. Mebbe my pace will pick up in the last third.
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purdypiedad
