The Novel Diary: Week 35
Word counts: 3,670 (Chapter 7); 40,082 (total).
Last week my novel grew by five words. That’s it. Five words. I sat down to tie the loose end of Chapter 7, made a few edits in the final section, and decided it was done without adding anything more.
I do that sometimes, especially with fiction. Having put a story down for a while, I return to it, read it to refresh my memory, and decide it is done. Or at least good enough for now. If I want or need to add anything, I can do it later in the rewriting phase.
Needless to say, I need a break. And, yes, I promise Back Road Stout will play a part. I plan to sip a couple at the Foxhead this week while writing through my frustrations in my journal. I need to plan ahead. I decided that is how I work best. Unless I have a defined route, I write aimlessly. Or I write myself into a hole I cannot get out of. I cannot sit down with a vague idea and let the novel build itself.
That is another thing about fiction. As Twain said, I have people, a place, and a situation, but just a seedling for a story. I need to create and craft something, which is completely different than what I have become accustomed to with nonfiction. Writing nonfiction is relatively easy: it is reporting, plain and simple. Since my novel is partially a thinly veiled autobiography, I have often thought about writing it as nonfiction and tweaking it later. However, the fictional elements play too large of a role for me to sit down and pour out my thoughts and experiences.
How long will my break last? A week? Two weeks? I don’t know. I want to start polishing (again) my long essay about Bobblehead’s wedding. After I give that another go-through and set out a route for the next phase of the novel I will get back to writing.
Last week my novel grew by five words. That’s it. Five words. I sat down to tie the loose end of Chapter 7, made a few edits in the final section, and decided it was done without adding anything more.
I do that sometimes, especially with fiction. Having put a story down for a while, I return to it, read it to refresh my memory, and decide it is done. Or at least good enough for now. If I want or need to add anything, I can do it later in the rewriting phase.
Needless to say, I need a break. And, yes, I promise Back Road Stout will play a part. I plan to sip a couple at the Foxhead this week while writing through my frustrations in my journal. I need to plan ahead. I decided that is how I work best. Unless I have a defined route, I write aimlessly. Or I write myself into a hole I cannot get out of. I cannot sit down with a vague idea and let the novel build itself.
That is another thing about fiction. As Twain said, I have people, a place, and a situation, but just a seedling for a story. I need to create and craft something, which is completely different than what I have become accustomed to with nonfiction. Writing nonfiction is relatively easy: it is reporting, plain and simple. Since my novel is partially a thinly veiled autobiography, I have often thought about writing it as nonfiction and tweaking it later. However, the fictional elements play too large of a role for me to sit down and pour out my thoughts and experiences.
How long will my break last? A week? Two weeks? I don’t know. I want to start polishing (again) my long essay about Bobblehead’s wedding. After I give that another go-through and set out a route for the next phase of the novel I will get back to writing.
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