Two and a half hours of work and I only managed to add another 1,500 words or so. And believe me, that was stretching things.
It's time to face it ~ this novella is short and it will remain short.
I don't even know if I'm going to keep all those extra words. My heart, frankly, is not in it. The draft was complete before I began adding to it. I'll give it a read-through tomorrow and if those extra words reek, out they go.
I detest stuffing for stuffing's sake. Granted, some things were missing ~ the main character's actual renovation efforts, mostly. I tied up those loose ends today.
But so what if a novella is short? If it tells a good story, I'm not seeing the problem. I'm agonizing over something that needn't be hair-pulling. In the larger scheme of things, it won't matter. Nobody's going to scoop it off Amazon's shelf.
My works are not masterpieces. They're nice little time-wasters. What's better ~ a ninety-nine cent novella that's entertaining or a more expensive book that the reader never bothers to finish? If mine comes out to be fifty Kindle pages, so be it. I can't feel sorry for someone who wastes a whole dollar.
Yes, I'm feeling a bit surly. I added narrative against my will and I did not enjoy doing it. This work cannot be magically transformed into something it's not.
To be generous, I managed to add one good line, but the story was fine without it.
I'm too tired and grumpy to make any judgments today. It could well be that tomorrow I dash off a book description and publish the thing and be done with it.
If things don't start looking up, I may have reached my writing limit.
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