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The last 10-15,000 words of The Novel have been a slog, a struggle every day to find the next part of the story, the next words to put down, the next thing that might happen.  Pages and pages of crap that will probably see the scissors, or if I’m lucky, will be salvageable in the rewrite(s).

Until last night.  There has been a place I’ve wanted to get to almost since the idea for the story first popped into my head. After 100k+ words, I finally got there, and it was glorious.  Things that have floated around in the back of my head came to the forefront and drifted out onto the page.  It wasn’t the most productive session, but I found a place, for the first time, where I could follow Hemingway’s advice: “Always stop for the day while you still know what will happen next.”

This is something I have been wanting to try but haven’t been able to do.  Perhaps it’s because of my attempts to enforce a minimum word count per day on myself, or just because I’ve had such trouble getting the words out.  I don’t know, but I look forward to giving another tool in the box a try.

Anyway, it’s another instance of how writing daily pays off, at least for me.  The beating my head against the desk until my forehead was black and blue (figuratively, at least) got me this here. If I hadn’t been working at things in such a steady fashion, I doubt I would have gotten here and had the chance to try something new.

I want two things now:

1) For the bruises to start healing, and

2) To not toss most of the previous work because I’ve now reached the ‘real beginning’ of the story.  I’ll do it if I have to, if the story tells me I must when I’m working on the rewrite.

I shan’t like it.  I shan’t, I shan’t, I shan’t. But if needs to go, it will go.

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