(I’d like to say “Vicky Vale” after that, of course, but it seems a little unnecessary.)
( Also, in full disclosure, since the presses were never really going, they don’t have to stop anything at all.)
(Also also, I’m pretty sure that Vicky Vale isn’t even a real person. And if she was, I don’t think she’d ever actually stop any presses anyway.)
Anyway, this post is about something kind of scary to me. What does “kind of scary” mean? Well, it’s scarier than Michael Meyers (either of them) stabbing you with a butcher knife, less scary than Fox News.
I think I have to write a lot more on novel. Maybe double what I have now. Worse, the end I sorta had planned from the beginning is entirely unfeasible now. While it’s good (for me, really good) to have 40,000 w0rds down, it’s really just the first half. And I don’t know the second half yet. (If you have any suggestions for good third acts, please let me know).
I know that I just need to take a couple of long walks and let my shapely mind figure it all out, but it’s sort of taken the wind out of my sails. I wrote 3000 words in a day one week ago; I’ve written less than a thousand since. I like what I have so far, but I do really have to figure out where it’s going. (It seems like there’s a metaphor in there somewhere, but I’m too lazy to figure it out).
At least it won’t take me as long as it took for A Dance with Dragons. That will be another distraction, but a long-awaited one. A Clash of Kings was the first hardback I ever bought, A Storm of Swords the second, and I paid a small fortune to buy Feast when I lived Australia (back on 05!). I’m hoping I can find Dragons somewhere in Korea. And then I’ll have figured out my book and get to writing. I promise!*
(*not really a promise)