The Novel Diary: Week 13
Word counts: 658 (Chapter 3); 23,055 (total).
Chapter 2 is in the book (literally) so I moved on to Chapter 3 yesterday.
I plan to make 3 a small chapter, a reprieve for the reader. I don’t know about anyone else, but I hate reading super long chapters. When I was a kid, probably when I read Redwall, I got into the habit of counting the pages of each chapter before reading it. I always use the end of a chapter as a stopping point, so I hated anything longer than 20 pages. I have no clue how many pages my chapters are running typeset-wise, but I am sure they would royally piss me off. (I stopped counting chapter pages a couple years ago, though I will peek ahead.)
Having written a little more than 400 words in my novel tonight, and $2,400-worth of checks for federal, California, Iowa, and Michigan income taxes (ah, life as an independent contractor), I am sitting back and sipping a little Stockyard Stout. That’s right — good ol’ Stockyard Stout, my oatmeal stout standby when I lived within blocks of a Trader Joe’s. I picked up a sixer (and a whole bunch of other TJ’s crack) at the store in Batavia, Illinois before returning to IC.
Which reminds me: except for my beer exploits, posting has taken a hit the last month. I just have not been in the mood. I have stuff in the pipeline, including posts about New Orleans and Chicago. I will try to be a better boy this week. At the same time, I will also continue to be a good boy with novel writing. (Short chapter. I promise.)
Chapter 2 is in the book (literally) so I moved on to Chapter 3 yesterday.
I plan to make 3 a small chapter, a reprieve for the reader. I don’t know about anyone else, but I hate reading super long chapters. When I was a kid, probably when I read Redwall, I got into the habit of counting the pages of each chapter before reading it. I always use the end of a chapter as a stopping point, so I hated anything longer than 20 pages. I have no clue how many pages my chapters are running typeset-wise, but I am sure they would royally piss me off. (I stopped counting chapter pages a couple years ago, though I will peek ahead.)
Having written a little more than 400 words in my novel tonight, and $2,400-worth of checks for federal, California, Iowa, and Michigan income taxes (ah, life as an independent contractor), I am sitting back and sipping a little Stockyard Stout. That’s right — good ol’ Stockyard Stout, my oatmeal stout standby when I lived within blocks of a Trader Joe’s. I picked up a sixer (and a whole bunch of other TJ’s crack) at the store in Batavia, Illinois before returning to IC.
Which reminds me: except for my beer exploits, posting has taken a hit the last month. I just have not been in the mood. I have stuff in the pipeline, including posts about New Orleans and Chicago. I will try to be a better boy this week. At the same time, I will also continue to be a good boy with novel writing. (Short chapter. I promise.)
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