I was afraid to learn the number of words I've written to date, and rightfully so. Today I checked, and it's only 30,000. That means I'm approximately a third of the way through my novel. Granted, I am a slow writer. I chalk that up to insecurity, mostly. I obsess over a word, consult the thesaurus, reorder words in a sentence. I have lots of "scenes", but figuring out where to place them, or whether to place them anywhere in the story is confounding.
When I'm in the midst of a novel, I have a good four iterations -- one is titled, "Additions" (those are the scenes I've written in a burst of creativity, but am not sure where to slot them in), one is simply called "Draft", which is the continuing story; one is my original scribblings; another is the super-serious, this is the actual, not kidding this time, formal novel. This is the one that I label with the title I've settled on. It does get confusing at times.
Now that I have loads of free time, I no longer have the excuse of being too busy to write. "Radio Crazy" took fifteen months, and it was written while I was working full-time. My new novel -- I have no recollection of when I began it; but it's probably pushing a year and I have little to show for it. I'm no longer consumed by a story. I was consumed the first and second times around, and those two novels are like ether -- no one has ever even read them but me. I'm a bit more callous this time; I like the story, I like the characters; but I have no misconceptions. I'm more focused on structure and beats. Conceit only turns into apathy in the long run.
I think I'll get there eventually, because I'm not a quitter. But a shoulder to cry on would be a balm. So comment if you would. Let me know if you are struggling, too; or share your successes.
I can't be the only one tapping a keyboard alone.
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