Yesterday, all I did was write, eat, and sleep. And I took most of my meals up to the library with me so I could keep working while I ate. Today, I am dazed and exhilarated, anxious and thrilled. The story in my head is on the page, zero draft complete. While I was writing it, it was more real to me than my surroundings. Library and laptop disappeared and I heard my characters speak to me, felt their emotions and desires as they lived in the world I had created for them. Yes, I know I sound as ridiculous as the worst angsty goth poet with a glass of merlot. But this is what I yearn for as a writer, what I strain and stress and struggle to achieve.
Also, I'm a little lightheaded. I didn't get a lot of sleep. I tapped out "The End" at 2AM and woke up at 6AM to start my first editing pass.
New words: 6700 on "Beauty's Folly" (I even came up with a title!)
This may be a new word count record for me. I made a bouncing, baby novelette in three days. Although I am somewhat terrified that mroctober is going to want to throttle me.
Editing now, since I didn't do any while the story was coming out. There's going to be cutting--I've already chopped out 500 words in my initial half-pass this morning. I had to stop when Hobkin told me in no uncertain terms that it was mealtime NOW. But I'm pleasantly surprised at how well the story's reading. Normally at this stage, I would expect much gnashing of teeth as paragraphs and scenes went flying to the eternal void of DELETE. 'Course I haven't hit the 6K I did yesterday. Odds are it will start getting ugly soon.
Club 100 For Writers