Look in the right-hand side bar.
Note the number by the Raimos: Draft 1, 55% done, 87,000 words.
I wrote what?
You may know that when I do my first draft of any story, I keep each chapter in its own cozy Word document. I don’t put them all into one manuscript until I’m finished, at which point I finally know the word count. Since I still haven’t finished TR, I didn’t know how long it was. I thought 40k, maybe 50k.
But it’s almost 90-freaking-k long! I didn’t realize I had written so much. How long would this novel be, had I finished it?
I know the word count since Nathan asked for my crap never-been-read-twice rough draft, and he compiled it all into one document. I was surprised, to say the least. Just like I was surprised to find out my first draft of CSH was only 91k. 91k-87k=4k. That’s not a lot. That means my one chunk of unfinished novel is practically the length of a novel.
--Cue everyone not caring nearly as much as I do--
Meanwhile, Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marilllier has taken a turn for the AWESOME, and I’m obsessed with it to the point where I can barely concentrate on work or do my own word count, and my prose is starting to sound like her prose and I hate it.
Excerpt of the day:
(This is from the first real short story I ever wrote—it was part of my application for the La Verna S. Clark creative writing scholarship that paid my first year of college.)
The tall man turned from the bedside to confront her, though his face was still hidden by the night. He lowered his staff into a streak of moonlight, a pearly luster glimmering off the crescent’s sharp edge.
Constance inhaled sharply as the silver scythe loomed by the mysterious guest, and she canvassed his appearance a second time. His presence sent chills into her shoulders and a tightness through her chest.
“Hast thou come to take him?” She questioned, “Art thou the devil?”
His hooded head shook negatively.
She clenched her teeth tightly, feet numb. “Thou art an angel of death?”
Constant’s Death, page 1