Words written since Week 19: 15,481
FINISHED at 195,545 words.
Thank goodness for denouement momentum. There were places near the end where I was stuck or was not sure how to proceed or was convinced I was going to fall flat on my face, but somehow I managed to push through and finish the thing at 3 a.m. on Monday, July 23. In the interest of full disclosure, I added and deleted a few things a few hours ago, but the word count ended up about even, so let’s just say it took 20 weeks to write about 200k words and leave it at that. The total number of chapters is 18 and an epilogue. I’m not even going to count the number of characters.
I’m still numb to it. After about four months of writing, it’s hard to believe it’s over. And like I’ve said before, it’s easier to end this particular novel because I know it isn’t the end of the story, and there are more books in the series to come. I’m sure that after the first week of not writing anything, it’ll hit me that it’s over, at least until edits in 2013 (provided the world still exists in a manner that allows me to continue).
One of the things that struck me in this last week of home stretch was that the same anxieties from before I even started the novel surfaced again. Except this time, the anxiety had the full weight and backing of the 190k words before it. What if it was all a waste of time? What if it’s not good? What if it doesn’t go anywhere? You write crap, woman! What makes you think you can do this? All the same thoughts swirling around in my head. Before, they were to stop me from starting. This time, they were to stop me from finishing. I did as I normally do: I wibbled and wobbled all through to the finish line. At 190k words, there’s really no point in not finishing, right?
My bipolar opinions on my writing prowess aside, I did enjoy my time with the characters, and I did enjoy watching the plot unfold, and I very much look forward to returning to them again – possibly next year, we’ll have to see.
In two or three weeks, I start another novel, a rewrite of the novel I wrote at 17. It’s a good novel, but the characters need some reworking, which changes the plot a bit. I still haven’t got a good handle on what’s going on in the new version, but I hope it occurs to me soon, because I don’t like writing by the seat of my pants. A few weeks isn’t the break I had hoped for, but I want to finish the nightmare novel before November. I’ll probably miss writing all the time, anyway.
You have not heard the end of the fairy tale remix. I have lots of thoughts and things to think about.