Word Count: 80,477 – Stress-level: High
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Y'know, i'd meant it to be a light book. Really. Something silly and fun. I believe the words “kooky” escaped my lips.
But, like every other time i'm allowed to touch a writing implement, everything turned so damn serious. Mopey even.
Just once, could i not try to write something “deep” and “important”?
I must have one book in me where pirate unicorns sail their ships across rainbows to rescue chocolate fairies from mean old Mr. Sunny-Frown.
I dunno. Maybe i don't watch enough cartoons.
The other day, someone asked me what my book was about.
I, (and, i might add, without irony) said, “One character represents the concept of death as entropy, while the other is a metaphor for the Tarot's concept that death is merely a form of change…”
I think i got most of the way through before they started to back away.
And yes, from one perspective, i can be all like, “yay me!” Because, you know, i did write over 80,000 words (or 427,627 maddening taps on my keyboard.) in 19 days.
But, from another perspective, there is a problem.
A couple hours ago, looking at the end of the manuscript, i found myself staring in horror, nay, terror, at the two most harrowing words imaginable:
ACT III
“But Grá, what's so terrible about those two words?”
“I'm glad you asked.”
“And Grá, is 'III' really a word?”
“Shhh!”
See, the problem is the words fail to be THE END. No matter how much i squint my eyes, they're not even related to THE END. I believe they may be acquaintances of THE END's hairdresser. And THE END won't return their calls.
What do i do? Well, i guess i keep writing…
One last writing update at the end of the month.
