When a Draft Stinks
July is a difficult month for me as a writer. The garden needs work. The hay needs hauling and stacking. Kids are being sold.
Perhaps it was a mistake to sign up for CampNaNo even for a measly 20,000 words. Except I needed that challenge to sit down and get started on the new draft of my third Hazel Whitmore book.
For three weeks I have struggled to get the draft started. There isn't really time to do rewrites but I did them anyway. After three rewrites, the first page still doesn't work.
The first two chapters are mired in mud, deep sticky mud.
The entire project is anchored to a millstone of previous work.
Only the challenge kept me struggling onward.
Then Amaya Hypocrite arrived on the scene. The skulduggery has begun. The chains are loosening.
The question now comes up: Can the fingers type fast enough to do another 9,000 words in three days?
The best part is finding the draft finally taking shape on its own. Maybe I will get it written this summer after all.
Perhaps it was a mistake to sign up for CampNaNo even for a measly 20,000 words. Except I needed that challenge to sit down and get started on the new draft of my third Hazel Whitmore book.
For three weeks I have struggled to get the draft started. There isn't really time to do rewrites but I did them anyway. After three rewrites, the first page still doesn't work.
The first two chapters are mired in mud, deep sticky mud.
The entire project is anchored to a millstone of previous work.
Only the challenge kept me struggling onward.
Then Amaya Hypocrite arrived on the scene. The skulduggery has begun. The chains are loosening.
The question now comes up: Can the fingers type fast enough to do another 9,000 words in three days?
The best part is finding the draft finally taking shape on its own. Maybe I will get it written this summer after all.
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