Day... whatever. 9.
I cannot, for the life of me, tell the days apart. I've been so overwhelmingly confused about what's coming up and what's just passed and when what needs to be done. I have problems keeping the days straight in my head and even more problems trying to arrange to actually do things, because I then forget that I was supposed to do them
today or
yesterday or whenever. I also have too many plans to properly manage, adding more and more of them until they all kind of run together and I don't want to do anything but sit and write, because at least I don't have to second-guess that.
Oh, and writing about doppelgangers can get really confusing for the writer. And the readers thought that they had it hard. Sheesh.
Day... uh... 7?
Let me state for the record that this is utter insanity. Mind you, I'm ahead on one of my novels (by a couple days), and progress on it is steady and reliable. I can write 4000-5000 words a day in it without even blinking. It's easy, even. Who knew that the more you talked about things, the easier it got to do so? Well, I's always heard the theory, but I'd never bothered to put it into practice.
I can't remember how to spell anything. I thank the heavens for Word's ability to autocorrect everything that I write. I make snarky comments at the undergrads in the library who talk on their cell phones. I drink too much tea. I've foregone everything else that I need to do in the course of my life because I want to finish these two books.
The second novel gives me a bit more trouble. While I realized that my word count is slightly higher than I thought it was, it's still nowhere near on par. I know where it's going, which is terribly different than the first novel, because I know where the other has been.
Day four.
On day four, I have mixed feelings. Because I'm working on two novels, rather than one, I'm around 7000 words short of where I need to be for the day. Oh, I'll knock out another couple thousand before I leave to go home, but I'm still aware of being behind.
I've identified a major problem in the first project, and in doing so, I think that it can be remedied. It's just a matter of taking out the emotion and relaying more of the facts. Some of that, of course, can be done in the re-write and editing process. I'm probably further along than I'm currently counting, as I have notes galore and thoughts to incorporate that I just... haven't yet. Day two was brilliant, and I was totally feeling it, but now... now it just isn't coming so easily. I think I have plans for a scene to work on, but we'll see when I get there.
Project two is a lot easier to write, and every day brings new discoveries of characters and players and plot twists and details that I'd not known before. I believe in this story, even if I know that I'm not currently writing at 100 percent. I know that I can go back later and flesh it out more, find the right words, do a little less meandering and add some extra personality.
The biggest problem that I have, I find, is that I'm trying to force out the words I want instead of just putting down the ones that are already there. Perhaps part of the novelling adventure is following the twists and turns that your characters and plotline provide for you. You know, giving up control and going with the flow. Kicking back, letting loose, and trusting that it will all come together in the end. If that's the case, November will be a month of long lessons, because I've never been too good at surrendering control...
Day two brings love.
It doesn't feel like day two. It feels like it's hard to breathe, or like book one is the equivalent of pulling teeth where its whimsical cousin book two is like trying to hold back a dam that's about to burst forth.
I have two hours until I have another writing time set aside with a friend, and I don't feel any more confident than I have since this whole thing started. I do, however, believe that I love my second novel, and love doesn't even seem like too strong of a word. It seems like just the right word, and it's one of those words that I hardly ever use because it never seems right. But it does now. I'm slipping further and further into this novel in my head, and in truth, I'm okay with that, though it makes writing the other even more of a chore. Maybe I'll run to the library early and try to knock out the obnoxious bits before revelling in the good book.
Yesterday, I bought new pants because it didn't seem that I could write well without comfortable pants. I should probably take this time to get something to eat, but I'd much rather just drink tea and ho and hum about the state of the universe and put words onto paper.
Day one.
12 hours into the first day, and really, the only thing that I can think is, "Oh, God, what have I done?" I stare at social obligations and wonder how I can get out of them so that I have more time to write. I stare at a series of computer screens and wonder how on earth I'm supposed to find the time to get enough words down, and I stare into myself and realize a few key things:
1. I don't want to write the first of the two novels. That's why I've been putting it off for years.
2. Writing two novels in the course of a month is utter insanity, but it remains a good motivator for actually getting the one that I don't want to write down.
3. I'm terribly fond of my second text, and it probably shows in the way that it's written.
4. I should have volunteers read what I have for each one, but I don't really want to do that... yet.
5. I like progress charts/graphs a little more than I should.
Anyhow, after the first engagement with a text I don't want to write (because I don't start work on the second until I've completed my goal for the first for the day), I felt a good deal like vomiting. The good thing though, is this: if I can manage to complete them both in rough draft form during the course of this month, then I'll never be daunted by the prospect of writing ever again.
