Thanks to some early morning graphomania, a half hour on my lunch break, and some room time this evening, I’ve managed three hours of drafting today, laying down 7,500 new words to a total of 22,400. I could probably write more tonight, but I’m beginning to push the quality envelope and I don’t want to burn up my current enthusiasm. And as
I’m eventually aiming for a 135,000 word finished book, but I strongly suspect I’m heading for a 170,000 – 200,000 word first draft. The pace is relaxed. Which is not necessarily a bad thing, and cuts within a single-threaded first person POV aren’t as hard to manage as, say, cuts within a six-threaded interlaced plot third person POV.
:: koff :: koff ::
Besides, I know what I’m aiming for.
Tomorrow I have the Omaha Beach Party after work (Zio’s, 76th & Dodge, if you’re in the area, around 6 pm), and packing to light out for the territories on Friday morning, so catching my two hours may be problematic. I think I’ll try going to sleep a little earlier in hopes of rising in time to exercise and log at least 90 minutes before work. A decent night’s sleep will clear out the dragons and fuel the god-riddled confrontations which loom in Green’s immediate future.
A short woman with cinnamon colored skin placed a basket of cardamom-scented butter rolls in front of me. Suddenly I was hungry beyond measure. Had the smell drawn me? I nodded at her, whispered “kava, with cream,” in my gruffest tone, and fell to.
What with one thing and another – riot, revolution, godhead – I have rarely found time to practice my baking. I am a good hand with breads, thanks to Mistress Tirelle, who did her best to make the most of what could me made of my enslavement in the Pomegranate Court. It was not just my empty stomach or the demands of the baby, I was sure, that led me to find these pastries the most delicious I had ever eaten.