My resolution of this morning has led to rank stupidity, of a probably necessary sort.
I had one scene left in Act Four. In keeping with the need for a higher pace, my goal for the night was not one thousand words, but that scene. I wasn’t sure how much that would be.
2169, in case you were wondering.
But wait! There’s more! You see, at that point I was over 89K. And that nice, tasty 90K landmark looked so close. I could write part of the first scene of Act Five, and feel really virtuous.
. . . except that the first scene ended up dropping me a hundred and fifty words shy of 90K, because it was so short.
So, in a fit of sheer bull-headedness, I started the next scene, praying I would get that 150 before I got into the meat of it, since I haven’t yet decided how [spoiler] is going to happen. I should have had two more days to make that decision, going at a normal pace, but tonight was not normal; tonight was 3041 words of headlong charging.
The novel is now 90005 words in length.
Act Four ran long, by a couple thousand words; that isn’t the end of the world, but when I revise I’ll see if I can’t tighten it. Act Five . . . you know how sometimes people say, “I know how long my legs are; they’re long enough to reach the ground”? Act Five will be long enough to reach the end. It may be short. I don’t kow. I’m just praying it doesn’t head too firmly in the other direction, because that would muck up this whole August 8th plan.
Unless I wrote 3K every day. But that would be a bad idea.
In fact, why am I still at my keyboard? Good night.
Authorial sadism: They figured out the plot.
LBR quota: Love and blood — my favorites.