Confession: I have recently started a writing blog. It’s HERE, and it’s based on the Treadmill Journal idea I stole from PoMo Golightly (through the writing group in Ravelry! Yay!). It’s boring, mostly, and only documents my own writing angst, but the writers among you might like to read it, or try something similar. It’s certainly kick-started my writing again, in a big way. And I just wrote this, and I’m stealing it from myself, so you don’t even have to go over there, but this made me feel good:
I realized something yesterday, something huge. This novel I’ve been working on, it’s a genre romance. There. I said it. I’m writing it for a target audience, and I have writer’s guidelines in mind. I will say, right now, that having read romances for years and years as a teenager and into my early twenties, I knew there were a lot of bad ones out there. But I kept reading them because some of them were good. Well written. Engaging. Romantic. That’s what I’ve been going for. I can write literary fiction and Be Serious; I can and have pulled that off. But it’s been a much more fun ride, this silly romance. Really, really fun.
And perhaps that’s how I got this far, and reached this realization: I’M ALMOST DONE. No, really. Yesterday, I realized that I only had one more big scene in mind, and that it was the denouement. But that couldn’t be! I was only up to 66,000 words!
Then I checked the guidelines, and ahem, that’s above the upper limit for the slim-sided imprint I chose to target.
In eloquent literary terms: Dude. That means I get to write a few more scenes, and I’ll be DONE. Which means I will type the words The End. That, of course, won’t mean the end of work, lots of editing, and apparently, paring down to meet to word count, but that’s a good thing — there are several scenes in the book that strike me as background rather than essential.
But it’s there! The end is coming! It’s reachable! I could hardly sleep last night. Look at me, wasting all this time here. Need to be moving into writing.
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